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  FIRST PRINCIPLES
  by Standard Publishing Company
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A study of the foundational doctrines of the Christian faith, originally
published serially in the Christian Standard in 1891. The work presents the
basic principles of New Testament Christianity as understood in the Restoration
Movement tradition.

  Chapters: 34

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS
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    1. Preface
    2. FIRST PRINCIPLES
    3. Chapter One: Introductory
    4. Chapter Two: Authority .
    5. Chapter Three: The Starting Place
    6. Chapter Four: The Gospel
    7. Chapter Five: Power From On High
    8. Chapter Six: Bearing Witness
    9. Chapter Seven: The Acceptance
   10. Chapter Eight: The Gospel Believed
   11. Chapter Nine: Conviction Of Sin
   12. Chapter Ten: Repentance
   13. Chapter Eleven: The Confession Of Faith
   14. Chapter Twelve: Baptism
   15. Chapter Thirteen: The Place Of Baptism
   16. Chapter Fourteen:   The Results Of Baptism
   17. Chapter Fifteen:   The Whole Subject Exemplified
   18. Chapter Sixteen:   Practical Teaching
   19. PERFECTION
   20. Chapter One:   Newness Of Life
   21. Chapter Two:   The Goal
   22. Chapter Three:   The Law Within
   23. Chapter Four:   Letter And Spirit
   24. Chapter Five:   The Higher Law
   25. Chapter Six:   Seeing The Invisible
   26. Chapter Seven:   Night Songs
   27. Chapter Eight:   The Everyday Life
   28. Chapter Nine:   Spiritual Declension
   29. Chapter Ten:   A Reckoning
   30. Chapter Eleven:   Sanctification
   31. Chapter Twelve:   Sanctification Progressive
   32. Chapter Thirteen:   Peace
   33. Chapter Fourteen:   Drawing Near
   34. Chapter Fifteen:   Behold The Perfect Man..

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  CHAPTER 1: PREFACE
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1891, by THE STANDARD
PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

Preface

THE following work was originally published serially in the "Christian Standard"
— a religious paper of wide circulation and great influence. In response to
numerous calls made by the readers of that journal, it is now submitted to the
public in this more permanent form. It should be stated that while the author is
identified with the people known as Disciples of Christ, or Christians, and is
heart and soul in sympathy with them, he alone is responsible for what is herein
contained. The work is in no sense an authoritative exposition of their belief.
Still, the fact that so many eminent and earnest men among them have given it
unqualified and warm expressions of approval will show to the general public
that the production, if not an adequate, is at least as far as it goes, a
correct representation of their position and doctrine. In perusing it,
therefore, the reader may feel assured that he is obtaining trustworthy
information respecting a people who are coming so rapidly to the front; and he
may find in the doctrine herein taught the real cause of their unexampled growth
and widespread influence.

GROVETOWN, GA., October, 1891


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  CHAPTER 2: FIRST PRINCIPLES
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Chapter One: Introductory Chapter Two: Authority .

Chapter Three: The Starting Place Chapter Four: The Gospel Chapter Five: Power
From On High Chapter Six: Bearing Witness Chapter Seven: The Acceptance Chapter
Eight: The Gospel Believed Chapter Nine: Conviction Of Sin Chapter Ten:
Repentance Chapter Eleven: The Confession Of Faith Chapter Twelve: Baptism
Chapter Thirteen: The Place Of Baptism Chapter Fourteen: The Results Of Baptism
Chapter Fifteen: The Whole Subject Exemplified Chapter Sixteen: Practical
Teaching


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  CHAPTER 3: CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTORY
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I DESIRE to submit to the readers of the "Christian Standard" a series of
articles on the "Principles of the Doctrine of Christ." This language, quoted
from Hebrews 6:1, may be more literally rendered "the word of the beginning of
Christ," as in the margin of the Revised Version; but the meaning of the two
renderings is substantially the same. The word of the beginning is in fact the
first principle of the gospel, as originally proclaimed.

The immediate context of the passage above cited suggests that these principles
are fundamental; that it was upon them as a foundation that Christianity was
built up; or that it was out of them as seed truths that it was developed.

Consequently, it is only by studying and understanding them that we can hope to
reach a clear and full comprehension of the Christian religion, as it was in the
beginning, is now, and ever shall be.

It should be noticed that the specification of principles given in the same
context ("repentance from dead works," and "faith towards God," with some
others) is not exhaustive of the subject, but illustrative of the writer's
meaning. The items mentioned were quite sufficient for his purpose, serving as
they did to exemplify the kind of things which he would have his readers
"leave," that they might "go on to perfection." But it is scarcely necessary to
say, especially to anyone who is not "unskillful in the word of righteousness,"
that some extremely important principles (such, for instance, as faith in
Christ) are not included in this list, although to a well instructed Christian
they may be implied. I shall therefore feel justified in studying this great
subject in its historical presentation and development, without confining myself
to the allusions and specifications given in the above cited Scripture.

It shall be my object to conduct the investigation with all needful care and
pains; and while I hope not to be tedious, I shall occupy as much time and space
as may be necessary to give a perspicuous and orderly presentation of the whole
subject.

On many accounts it is deemed important, not only by myself, but by others in
whose wisdom I confide, that this work should be undertaken. The Christian
Churches, or the people known as Disciples of Christ, who maintain and propagate
the principles which I am herein to present and discuss, have established a
character which naturally excites inquiry. They have not only exhibited an
unswerving Christian and Biblical conservatism, but they have demonstrated, by
almost uniform, certainly by very remarkable success, that they possess elements
of influence and power which cannot be ignored by religious society, and which
are beginning to command respectful attention and consideration from the leaders
of religious thought. What I have to say, therefore, may be regarded to some
extent responsive to this state of mind and feeling.

I also have in view that large class of serious and reflective persons, not
members of any church, but who feel their responsibilities, who appreciate, at
least in a general way, the importance and value of the Christian religion, and
who, while caring nothing for the peculiar doctrines and conflicting claims of
different sects, would still love to know and to receive the essential truth.
They may be in perplexity and mental difficulty. The jars, discords and
rivalries among the churches may even have generated sober and honest doubts.
May it not all be a delusion? Is there any sure and certain right way? If so,
can it be found? And can it be known when it is found? To such persons the first
principles of the gospel, clearly set forth and sufficiently supported by holy
Scripture, will be almost like a new revelation from heaven, resolving their
doubts, relieving their perplexities, banishing their darkness, and exhibiting
in light and beauty the whole way of life and salvation.

Among the Disciples themselves, also, there are weighty reasons why those
principles should be given a prominent and conspicuous place; and why they
should be viewed from different angles, and exhibited in different lights. It is
true that none of us can be said to be wholly ignorant of them. They have been
discussed and advocated over and over again in some instances with indiscretion
and ad nauseam; but in general, with thoughtful care and considerate adaptation.
They have been viewed by minds of singular clearness and penetration, and
supported with pen and tongue by men of great learning and strength. I cannot
hope to surpass or even equal the able writers who have preceded me in this
field. They have reaped the harvest; I come, like Ruth the Moabitess, to glean
after them. Still, however wisely and skillfully they wrought, the special value
of their work grew out of its adaptation to the times and circumstances which
called for it. Now the times have changed. A new generation has come forward.
Peculiar conditions and circumstances have arisen. In some respects the tone,
spirit and attitude of the churches have been modified. Works which were
formerly read with delight, and appreciated by every one at their true intrinsic
value, are now seldom read at all, especially by the young, and when read seem
to have lost something of the flavor and freshness originally possessed by them.
In this rapid age it takes but a few years for such productions to go out of
date. And therefore, if what I may say shall have no greater value, it must at
least, and for a time, have the value of recency.

It may be proper to add that, if spared to prosecute this undertaking, I expect
to do so in my own way. I shall not seek after novelty, nor to avoid the paths
which great and good men have trodden before me; and no doubt I. shall
generally, if not always, find myself in their company; but I shall not
slavishly follow them. The nature of the subject, and the importance of the
circumstances which call for its present discussion, demand that it shall be
studied and treated de novo.

Finally, I cannot forget that the spirit of Christian unity is becoming daily
more and more potential in religious society. Even the ministers of the
different churches--who have hitherto exerted a repressive influence upon this
spirit—are beginning to feel its force, and to anticipate the joy of its full
development. And now that some of them, nay, that many of them, are coming
toward us, as it were, with flags of truce, and words of love, rather than as of
old with clubs and taunts, it would ill become me to meet them with blows and
reproaches. If it was ever proper and necessary to present and advocate the
principles of the gospel in the spirit and with the bearing of controversy and
belligerency, it is not so now. It is not a time of war, but of peace; a time in
which we may hope to "sit down together at the feet of our common Master, to
hear his word, to imbibe his spirit, and to transcribe his life in our own." We
believe that the great fundamental principles for which we have so earnestly
contended, and which have given us so much satisfaction and strength, are
catholic in their nature; that by a divine adaptation they are fitted to and
needed by every creature in all the world; and that it requires only a
dispassionate consideration of them, free from bias and prejudice, for all to
see that they are indeed what we believe them to be, "THE TRUTH AS IT IS IN
JESUS."


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  CHAPTER 4: CHAPTER TWO: AUTHORITY .
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In approaching the investigation upon which we are about to enter, it is
necessary first of all to consider the question of authority; for we can but
acknowledge and feel that the subject itself is one which, from its very nature,
is beyond the range of our own unaided thinking. We must have instruction and
guidance. No philosophy, however profound and far-reaching, could ever lead us
to the principles of the gospel of Christ. They belong to a different and higher
sphere, beyond the boundaries of the realms both of consciousness and of
observation. It is true that they come at length to be brought within the domain
of consciousness, generating their delightful experiences, and leading the mind
to intelligent and fruitful observation. But they must be brought there.
Primarily, we cannot go to them; they must come to us. Left to themselves, our
loftiest powers are wholly unable to solve humanity's most solemn problem. As
already intimated, no system of philosophy ever did or ever could make known to
a human being what he must do to be saved. On this subject we are dependent,
absolutely and entirely, upon revelation.

Furthermore, as we did not and could not originate the principles of life and
salvation; as they did not arise in us, and do not primarily belong to us, we
have neither the right nor the competency to modify or change them. On the
contrary, believing as we do that they were given to us from above, and given by
Him who is the source of all light and truth, of all knowledge and wisdom, as He
is of all saving grace and power, there is nothing that we can legitimately do
but honestly study, gratefully embrace and faithfully observe them.

In this investigation we assume that the Bible is the desiderated authority. We
assume it because those whom we shall address will not call it in question. If
we were seeking to influence avowed infidels and skeptics, it would be
necessary, first of all, to argue the point which we now take for granted, and
give our reasons for believing that the Bible is the word of God, and its
authority absolute and final. But, happily for our purpose, this preliminary
work is not here necessary. We occupy ground which is common to all whom we
shall especially address —the divine inspiration and authority of Holy
Scripture.

It may be necessary, however, in order to relieve the subject of possible
complications, to pause for a little while upon the meaning of inspiration; for
while all reverent piety admits the fact of inspiration, and rejoices in it,
there is room for wide divergence of opinion as to what the fact implies; and it
is still an open question, In what sense is the Bible inspired?

Without pausing to notice the growth of the doctrine of inspiration as exhibited
in the writings of Jewish theologians, church fathers, the schoolmen of the
middle ages, and the theologians of the Reformation period, it will suffice to
consider that at present all the nice distinctions and finely drawn
discriminations of the past are generally disregarded, and the whole matter
seems to be resolving itself into an issue between two theories:

1. That the very words of Scripture, just as they were originally penned, were
dictated by the Holy Spirit—the writers being his passive instruments.

2. That the writers themselves were inspired with the knowledge of the truth,
and were moved by the Holy Spirit to give expression to that knowledge, but in
their own language; he, however, superintending the work, and preserving them
from error; and that where the truth was of such character that it could be
acquired by ordinary means, without the necessity of immediate revelation from
heaven, this superintendence of the Holy Spirit sufficed. It should be added
that there are persons (of them the writer is one) who believe that neither of
the above theories will hold good in its application to every part of the Bible;
and that it requires both to cover the whole of the sacred volume.

The twentieth chapter of Exodus will serve to illustrate my meaning in very few
words. Here, if we credit the record, we are obliged to believe that "God spake
all these words"; that he actually enunciated and dictated the identical words
which follow, namely, the ten commandments—that is, from the first to the
seventeenth verse inclusive. But now, when we reach verse 18, we can but
recognize that we are on a different plane. It reads: "And all the people saw
the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the noise of the trumpet, and the
mountain smoking: and when the people saw it, they removed and stood afar off."
Certainly this is a faithful record of what took place. It is the truth; but the
knowledge of this truth was derived from observation rather than revelation.
Moses saw what was done, and, moved by the Holy Spirit, he was led to put it
upon record; and if, under the superintendence of that Spirit, he was preserved
from mistake or error, we have the exact truth of the case, although the words
may have been his own.

And so throughout the whole Book: when we read it with discrimination and
reflection, we see that in parts it records what God immediately revealed, and
what he said; in other parts, what holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy
Spirit; in others still, mere historical information, giving incidents and
narratives—telling what was said and done by good men and bad, by angels and
demons; but the entire record " inspired "—that is to say, the Holy Spirit, by
his superintending influence, directed and controlled the writers as to what
should be recorded and what should not; and so strengthened their memories and
guided their hands as to preserve them from error in making the record.

But it matters not what particular theory of inspiration we may favor—what
special phase of the doctrine we may regard as best accordant with the facts—if
we do but hold fast to the conviction that the Bible is not an accident, nor yet
the product of mere human genius, but that in some high and altogether peculiar
sense it is the work of God, containing his word, revealing his will, and
teaching his truth; and that the Holy Spirit who, in some way, presided over its
composition, pervades it still, and imparts himself through it.

We should read and study it, therefore, in the spirit of profound reverence,
believing that when we have reached its true sense and meaning, we have acquired
the very truth of God, from which there can be no appeal. Nor should we forget
that however controlling and conclusive its authority, and however high and
sacred its revelations, it is all written in human language—retaining the
current sense of the words which it uses, and combining them into propositions
and sentences, according to the rules and laws governing human compositions.
This fact suggests the sure and safe way to its proper understanding and
interpretation. We are to observe in our investigation of its meaning the same
rules and laws which were observed in its composition.


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  CHAPTER 5: CHAPTER THREE: THE STARTING PLACE
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It is important to bear in mind that the true historical beginning of
Christianity, considered as an institution, is not found in the first chapters
of the four Gospels, but in the last. This institution or church was founded and
widely spread over the earth before any of these Gospels had been written; and
it was founded by the application of those very principles which are the subject
of our present investigation. It is true that the wonderful facts which came
subsequently to be recorded by the evangelists were well known by the apostles.
The Christ had come into the world—God's only begotten Son—and had lived and
taught among men. His chosen disciples had listened to his instructions, had
witnessed his miraculous works, had been near to him in his sufferings and
death, and had seen him again and again after his resurrection. On one of these
occasions—the last one, at the close of his earthly work and mission, and just
before he went back to live forever with his Father in Heaven — he gave
commandment to his apostles, and sent them forth into the world. He commissioned
them as his ambassadors, giving them special instructions as to what they were
to teach and what they were to do in his name; and it was the execution of this
mission which resulted subsequently in the establishment of the church and the
propagation of the Christian religion. This, then, was the starting place. It
was the initiation of the great movement which has so wonderfully and powerfully
affected the world; and we may expect, consequently, to find in this commission,
either explicitly or implicitly, all the essential elements and "first
principles" of the doctrine of Christ. It shall be my object, therefore, to
study it, first in its terms—to weigh and consider with all possible care the
language of the document itself; to see what it means—what the Saviour meant by
it; and then, secondly, to go with the inspired apostles out into the world, as
they were engaged in the execution of it, in order to see how they understood
it. I cannot doubt that, if we engage in this task in the proper spirit, free
from all bias and prejudice, and in humble dependence upon God, we shall be
guided into the certain knowledge of those great principles which constitute the
very essence and stability of the Christian religion.

We have in the Synoptic Gospels three separate versions of the commission. The
reasons for this we need not pause here to consider; suffice it to say that they
are mutually supplementary to each other, and we may understand that together
they give us all the elements of that most important and fruitful deliverance. I
will quote them here, once for all, as they stand in the Revised Version.

1. "And Jesus came to them and spake unto them, saying, All authority hath been
given unto me in heaven and on earth. Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all
the nations, baptizing. them into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of
the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I commanded you:
and lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew
28:18-20.)

2. "And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to
the whole creation. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he
that disbelieveth shall be condemned." (Mark 16:15-16.)

3. "Then opened he their mind, that they might understand the Scriptures; and he
said unto them, Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer, and rise
again from the dead the third day; and that repentance and remission of sins
should be preached in his name unto all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem.
Ye are witnesses of these things. And behold, I send forth the promise of my
Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city, until ye be clothed with power from
on high." (Luke 24:45-49.) We cannot doubt that our Lord imparted to the
apostles, on the occasion to which I have alluded, all the terms of this
commission, 1: e., everything mentioned in Matthew, in Mark, and in Luke; but
the Holy Spirit, perhaps in order to induce us to study and compare these sacred
records, has caused them to be written in part by one evangelist and in part by
the others.

A brief and, for the present, quite superficial comparison of these versions
will serve to show that, from Matthew's alone, we should not know how disciples
were to be made; and while it reveals the obligation imposed upon the apostles
to administer baptism, it does not disclose the motive which would induce men to
submit to or desire baptism. From Mark's version alone we should have no
baptismal formula; nor should we know that the baptized would sustain the
personal relation of disciples to the Lord; and from neither of these versions
should we learn that repentance was to be preached. From Luke's version we learn
nothing about belief, or the consequence of disbelief; nothing about baptism;
nothing about discipleship; but we do learn that the word " saved," as used in
Mark, has the special signification of "remission of sins," and that this is
closely connected with repentance. We also learn that the apostles were to be
witnesses of the facts of the gospel; that they were to begin in Jerusalem, but
not until after they should be clothed with power from on high.

If now we merge the three versions into one, and arrange their several items in
what seems to be the natural order of their presentation, we shall have the
following tabulation:

1. The apostles were to tarry in Jerusalem until they should be clothed with
power from on high.

2. They were (first in Jerusalem and afterwards in all the world) to "preach the
gospel," involving the Christhood, the sufferings and resurrection of the Lord
Jesus.

3. They were to bear personal " witness " to the facts of the gospel, and to
confirm their testimony by the written word—their minds having been opened to
understand the Scriptures.

4. They were to expect that the gospel thus preached and witnessed would, in
many cases, result in "belief," in others in "disbelief," to be followed by
"condemnation."

5. Those who believed would, as the .natural consequence, though it is not here
stated in terms, become distressed on account of their personal sins.

6. Such persons were to be told in the first place to "repent," and in the
second, to be "baptized" in the name of Christ, and ”into the name of the
Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit."

7. Upon compliance, they were to be assured of the "remission of sins," or that
they were "saved" from their sins.

8. As the result of all this, they would be recognized as "disciples" of Christ,
and, as his disciples, they were to be "taught" to observe "all things that he
had commanded."

9. In the execution of this commission the apostles were assured that their Lord
would always "be with them," even "unto the end of the world."

From this brief summary of the commission, it is evident that some things in it
must, of necessity, be confined exclusively to the apostles—such as their
personal testimony to the facts of the gospel, and their miraculous endowment
from on high; both of which, however, were for the sake of establishing those
great and fundamental principles of the gospel—also contained in the
commission—which are of universal and unchanging obligation. These we shall next
take up seriatim. And surely if Christianity was developed out of them, and if
it is still maintained and perpetuated by them, they must be worthy of our most
thoughtful and serious consideration.


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  CHAPTER 6: CHAPTER FOUR: THE GOSPEL
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The word gospel, as used in the New Testament, is to my mind one of the
strongest incidental proofs of the supernatural origin and divine inspiration of
that sacred volume. It is indeed a significant fact that no philosopher, even
the most eminent, was ever 'led to call his system a gospel, much less the
gospel; and obviously for the reason that it was not a gospel. However wide the
range and application of the term philosophy, as used by us—whether we consider
it as the product of observation or of speculation—it is in any case but a
result of human thought. It originates with man. But the word gospel, as it
comes from the lips of Christ and the evangelists, points directly to an origin
outside of man, and remote from him. It if good news — glad tidings — joyful
intelligence; and, like all intelligence or news, therefore, it is brought in
from without—from afar! It comes from a region which to mere philosophy is
foreign and unknown—a region in which primarily it neither moves nor can move.
But in the New Testament, and in the New Testament alone, the word in this high
sense is of repeated occurrence. It seems to arise spontaneously, and to be used
as a matter-of-course; to be used as the natural and only proper word to express
the stupendous fact that Heaven was speaking to Earth, and speaking in terms of
love and salvation. And it will doubtless occur to the reader that both the
nature and origin of this gospel are beautifully indicated by the proclamation
of the angel to the shepherds: “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy."
I bring you! I bring you from above! My message is good news from Heaven!

Later on, when the Babe in the manger had become a man, and had entered upon his
ministry, he speaks of " the gospel of the kingdom," the good news that "the
kingdom of heaven is at hand." And still later, when he had wrought redemption
for the human race, and had triumphed over death and the grave; when he had been
made perfect through sufferings, and become man's only but all-sufficient
Saviour—this constituted the good news; and hence it was called "the gospel of
Christ "—the glad tidings concerning Him who was sent by the Father to be the
Saviour of the world; of Him who came from heaven to seek and to save that which
was lost. And it was these wonderful and wholly exceptional characteristics of
his history—what he was, whence he came, what he said, what he did, what -he
achieved—that constituted the elements of "news" in the apostolic proclamation.
He therefore bases the commandment to preach the gospel upon these historical
facts; that he was the Christ, as shown by the perfect correspondence of his
life and work with the written word; that, still in accordance with this word,
he had suffered, and risen again from the dead; that all authority in heaven and
on earth had been given to him, and, consequently, that in his "name" (now above
every name) men might procure the "remission of sins." These fundamental facts,
with all that they involved — God's infinite mercy and gracious disposition —
were to be universally heralded, proclaimed, preached; and by such
preaching—foolish and impotent as it might seem to be in the eyes of
philosophy—it pleased him to save them that believe. And this preaching
itself—the preaching of the cross—at once expressed and imparted, displayed and
conveyed the wisdom of God and the power of God. In no sense therefore was it
"after men," or according to man's wisdom. And I doubt if we have been able even
yet to appreciate how much this "foolishness of God is wiser than men."

I presume that very few, if any, of us have fully succeeded in overcoming what
seems to be a sort of natural proneness to attach undue importance, in matters
of religion, to the merely outward; to forms and ceremonies; to the
spectacular—something that may be seen—something that is presented, or, at any
rate, presentable, to the eye! But God's wisdom is manifested in this: that in
order to save the soul, he addresses the ear!

I am happy to believe that the more thoughtful and considerate among the people
of God are coming to a better appreciation and realization of the fact that men
cannot be saved, that is to say. cannot he brought back into communion with Him
who is essential Spirit, otherwise than by the preaching of the gospel.

In the realm of mere material things it may be true, as Addison says, that "our
sight is the most perfect and most delightful of all our senses;" that it "may
be considered as a more delicate and diffusive kind of touch, that spreads
itself over an infinite multitude of bodies, comprehends the largest figures,
and brings into our reach some of the most remote parts of the universe." But
with all this, the eye, it will be noticed, is still limited to "bodies," to
"figures," to the shape and size and colors of things, and, in fact, to the
outside only of even these. But the living voice comes from within, and it bears
along with itself a portion of that internal spirit out of which it is born; and
it bears it through "the hearing of faith," into the very innermost spirit of
him who hears. I do not forget that the voice may be recorded by the use of
conventional symbols which are made to represent words, and which, by a figure
of speech, we have come to call words. In fact, however, they are but suggestive
signs of the real words. Still, we are so familiar with what they signify, we
connect them so instantaneously in our thought with the signs for which they
stand, that we can look upon them with our eyes, and drink in their meaning. The
mind seems to hear, while the eye beholds. For this reason the written or
printed document, perused in the quiet and stillness of the closet, may have
great value, and may exert salutary influence; but for the highest effect, for
the best results, for the attainment of the great end contemplated by the
Saviour, all experience and observation have shown that nothing is equal and
nothing is comparable to the actual and literal preaching of the gospel. With
deepest and most consummate wisdom, therefore, the Lord ordained that, as the
very first principle of salvation, as the initiation of the whole process, the
gospel should be preached. And with all our Bible Societies and printing presses
we shall never be able to dispense with this part of the commission. There is no
possible substitute for it. Whatever else we may do or leave undone, whatever
changes may take place in our condition or circumstances, and whatever
modifications or developments may be made in our conceptions of ecclesiastical
and doctrinal subjects, it must still remain true, that, while we recognize the
authority of Christ, and bow to him as our King and Lord, it will be solemnly
incumbent upon us, either in person or by representatives, to "go into all the
world, and preach the gospel to the whole creation." If I have in any proper
measure succeeded in accomplishing what I designed, I have made, I trust, the
following points sufficiently clear:

1. The word gospel, in the high sense in which it is therein employed, is
distinctly a New Testament word.

2. The introduction and use of this word, and especially the way in which it is
used, give to it an evidential value of great importance.

3. The gospel which is to be preached embraces the historical facts in the life
of Christ, and whatever these involve.

4. The wisdom of God was peculiarly manifested in making the preaching of the gospel the first principle of salvation --- in addressing the ear rather than the eye.

5. The obligation to preach the gospel is perpetual and universal— and there is
nothing which can be substituted for it.

I have only to add, in concluding the present part of my subject, that the
divine wisdom is yet further shown in ordaining, not only that the gospel shall
be preached to men, but by men. Angels, though superior in power and
intelligence, are not fitted for this ministry, chiefly because they are not
within the boundaries of our natural sympathies and fellowships. Notwithstanding
his imperfections, therefore, nay, perchance in consequence of these
imperfections, man can better and more effectually reach his fellow-man, and
pour into his heart the strength, the comfort and the grace which have proved
efficacious in overcoming his own weakness, his own sorrows, and his own sins.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 7: CHAPTER FIVE: POWER FROM ON HIGH
========================================================================

The commission contemplated the performance of a work which was evidently too
great for the unaided human capacity. Notwithstanding the apostles had been
trained and educated in the school of Christ; notwithstanding they were
perfectly familiar with the facts which they were to proclaim, and the
conditions of salvation which they were to announce—all having been distinctly
specified and clearly taught; still they were to tarry in Jerusalem until they
should be, clothed with power from on high. This is deeply significant, and is
worthy of calm and serious meditation.

It is obvious to remark that primarily this had reference to the miraculous
endowment of the apostles for their special work. They were to be the first
preachers of the gospel; they were to open the doors of the kingdom of heaven;
they were to prescribe the terms of admission into it; and, in a word, to
establish precedents for all time to come. It was peculiarly necessary,
therefore, that their minds should be supernaturally strengthened and
illuminated; that they should be guided into all truth, and preserved from the
possibility of mistake or error. All this may be granted—must be granted; but
still, if this power from on high be regarded, as perhaps by some it may be; as
merely an intellectual safeguard—as only the security that the truth, and
nothing but the truth, should be preached—I must think that such conception is
inadequate. Over and above all this, and perhaps even more important than all
this, was the influence of the Divine Spirit upon the apostles' own moral and
spiritual natures, bringing them into sympathy with God, elevating their
thoughts, purifying their affections, ennobling their purposes, and so
sanctifying them, body, soul and spirit, as to make them worthy to represent the
Son of God, and to be the bearers of his divine message.

And this brings us to the inquiry: What interest, what practical interest, have
we of this nineteenth century in the subject now under consideration? Does it in
any wise concern us? Are we in any sense, and, if so, in what sense, to expect
the continued presence and influence of this same power from on high? Many,
perhaps, in view of the fact that its original coming was miraculous, and that
its primary object was exceptional, would answer, No. But to my mind these
considerations are by no means conclusive. Of course we eliminate the miraculous
from our present View. No well instructed Christian can now look for outpourings
of the Holy Spirit. We shall have no more pentecostal scenes, no more
Pentecostal sounds from heaven. Nor will the special work of that memorable day
ever be repeated. But we cannot forget that the same Spirit which came then with
signs and wonders and divers gifts, came to remain; to abide, without the signs,
the wonders and the gifts, but still to abide, as a Living Presence and a Divine
Power, forever.

In considering the subject as I now do, in connection with the preaching of the
gospel—.for so it is presented in the commission which I am discussing—and in
seeking to apply the essential elements of the doctrine to our modern life and
work, it will suffice to indicate a few of the errors respecting it into which
men seem liable to fall.

And first it can hardly have escaped the notice of anyone that ministers of fine
natural and acquired ability are not always, indeed not usually, the most
spiritually minded. They are apt to rely upon their native gifts. And it is
scarcely necessary to say that an able man, such as I have described, may,
simply from his own genius and intellectual resources, make a very fine
discourse. There is, indeed, no reason why he should not be able to display, in
the treatment of religious subjects, all those powers which would bring him
distinction and renown upon any secular theater. I can imagine that Cicero,
furnished simply with an intellectual outfit of Biblical knowledge, could, with
the stimulus of ample fees, have made a very popular preacher. Genius,
imagination, art, learning, expression, and whatever else goes to constitute
oratory, lose neither their nature nor their influence when transferred from the
forum to the pulpit. Nor is it wrong to use there these natural and acquired
gifts. Let them all be brought and cones crated to the work of the ministry. But
what I wish to say with all proper emphasis is that these alone, without the
power from on high, do not suffice to make a true preacher of the gospel. No
man, I care not who he is, nor what he is, can bear to his fellow-man a message
from God unless he has himself been with God. He must have the mellowing,
hallowing, sanctifying influence upon his own soul, which comes only from
habitual and intimate communion with God. The Apostolic benediction, "The grace
of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy
Spirit," must rest upon and abide with every true and acceptable preacher of the
gospel. Apart from this, a man's service is either cold and perfunctory, or else
his eloquence has but the warmth of natural heat—if indeed it be not a
glittering icicle. Whatever notions, therefore, it may please men to entertain
respecting the nature of spiritual influence or the mode of its operation, it is
at least certain that, as a fact, it is the Spirit that is to convict the world
of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment, and this he does through the
preaching of the word. The influence, consequently, must come out of the heart
of the preacher, and be borne along with his message. Truly, it is a sacred and
solemn thing to be a preacher of the gospel—to preach it with the Holy Spirit
sent down from heaven.

What is desiderated, however, is not some wild and extravagant frenzy which
enthusiasts may call the influence of the Spirit. This may be in whole or in
part a delusion, and we may well guard ourselves against it. But there is a true
and real, a genuine and most blessed influence of the Spirit, which is
absolutely indispensable to the generation and maintenance of Christian life;
and the preacher who ignores it, who fails to avail himself of it, and to be
filled more and more with it, has missed his calling, and is really engaged in
secularizing a most sacred vocation.

I may add, in conclusion upon this point, that the Disciples of Christ, who most
truly believe that in conversion the Spirit operates through the word of truth,
that he begets men to the new life by the gospel, should of all men be most
solicitous, while preaching that gospel; to be themselves filled with that
Spirit.

But while insisting, as I have been doing, upon the genuineness and necessity of
the Spirit's influence, I yet have no sort of sympathy with much that passes for
soundness on this subject. I do not now refer to any of those hysterical
exhibitions which often, among the ignorant and vulgar, accompany religious
excitement, and which it is gratuitously assumed are evidences of the Spirit's
presence and power. These it may suffice us here to pity and dismiss. But among
the cultivated and strong—among ministers of pure hearts and sound minds—the
manifestation of great anxiety to have the doctrine respecting the Holy Spirit's
influence strongly and constantly stated, as though that were equivalent to the
thing itself, or at any rate necessary to the attainment of it. Under all
circumstances and on all possible occasions, whatever else may be left out, men
are sure to be reminded of the necessity of the Spirit's influence. Now my
objection to this is not that I do not believe in this influence, for I do; but
it is because it is teaching men, as it seems to me, to look for it outside of
the place where God reveals that it is to be found. Instead of being helpful,
therefore, it is rather confusing and distracting. Of course in a company of
Christians, met together to increase their spiritual joys and cultivate their
spiritual natures, my objection does not hold. But in preaching the gospel to
sinners—to men who are called in the Bible " the world," and who as such, it
expressly declares, "cannot receive" nor " know " the Spirit, the case is
totally different. And it surprises me that good men and faithful ministers of
Jesus Christ have been so slow to recognize the fact that they have no
commission to preach the Holy Spirit. It is our business, our whole business,
aided and comforted and strengthened and filled by that Spirit, to preach the
gospel of Christ, in the confident assurance that the great source of light and
life will not fail to do his work, and do it all the more surely by having the
mind of the sinner directed to Christ whom he can know, 'rather than to himself
whom he cannot know.

The special object which I have here in view does not call for a discussion of
the general subject of spiritual influence; and I shall be content if I have,
while guarding against certain natural mistakes, made it plan that the preacher,
of all Christians, should most earnestly seek the Holy Spirit—to help his
infirmities, to enlighten his judgment, to warm his heart, to enlarge his
sympathies—that he may be able to preach Christ in love and in power


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 8: CHAPTER SIX: BEARING WITNESS
========================================================================

If I dwell upon the preaching of the gospel with its concomitants as presented
in the commission, before proceeding to the consideration of other elementary
principles, it is because of my high appreciation of its transcendent
importance. Having in previous chapters discussed the subject matter of the
gospel, the wisdom of God in obtaining that this gospel shold be preached, and
having considered the necessity for the presence and power of the Divine Spirit
to qualify for this preaching, we come at length and in fine to the witnessing
of the gospel.

When the Saviour says to the apostles at the close of Luke's version of the
commission, "And ye are witnesses of these things," he refers to their testimony
to the objective facts of the gospel of which they were personally cognizant.
They were to bear witness to what they themselves with their natural senses have
seen and heard. It goes without saying that, in this precise and definite
meaning, the application of the passage is confined to the apostles. No one can
now bear such testimony as they were competent, and therefore required, to
furnish. But it occurs to me that, underlying this special and necessarily
restricted application of the test, there is a broad principle of universal
application, and of very great value. Before proceeding, however, to the
consideration of this principle, I deem it necessary to call attention to an
abuse of the word “testimony” and its cognates, which has been introduced into
the pulpit and elsewhere, and which I think is not friendly to the cause of
truth. I refer to the practice, which is quite common in some places, of
narrating certain emotional or other personal experiences, and calling it a
“testimony for Christ.” Frequently it is made a leading object, with
professional and entusiastic evangelists to induce men to arise in the
congregaiton and “testify for Christ.” Now the objection to this is not that
what is said is false or even doubtful. It may every word be true. The man thus
“testifying” may have experienced all the peace and joy and comfort which he
reports; and if the questions appertained simply to the fact of such
experiences, he would be a competent “witness,” and his “testimony” might be
regarded as conclusive. But the question upon which he is assuming to testify is
not the fact of his experience, but the cause, the meaning, the explanation of
it. And while he may give us his honest judgment upon this point — his opinion,
his belief, his conviction — it is in no proper sense testimony, and would not
be regarded as evidence before any competent tribunal. And now if this practice
of so-called “testifying” bases itself, as I suppose it must, upon those
scriptures requiring the apostles to bear witness to what they had seen and
known, the misapplication and abuse of such scriptures are manifest, and nothing
more need be said.

We come now to consider the meaning for us, and for all men, and for all time,
of the Saviour’s commission to bear testimony; of the fact that he raised up and
qualified chosen men who were to “be withnesses unto him in Jerusalem, and in
all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
I think that no one whose attention is called to it can read this passage and
the numerous others of similar import, without perceiving that our Saviour
evidently contemplated that the production of faith and the propagation of
religion were not to be by the inworking of a direct and supernatural agency,
but on the contrary, were to be strictly in harmony with the natural
constitution and established laws of the human mind. Men were not to be made to
believe, but were to be furnished grounds and reasons for believing. There
intelligence was to be addressed; facts were to be submitted; evidences in proof
of those facts adduced; and these, if duly weighed and considered, would satisfy
the mind and result in belief. Faith comes by hearing — by hearing that
naturally which is designed and fitted to produce faith.

It is also to be noted that, in harmony with this same intelligent design and
most reasonable contemplation, the Saviour provided, not only that the apostles
should bear witness to the facts which han come within their personal knowledge,
but that their testimony shuld be confirmed by evidences drawn from the sacred
Scriptures. Hence, primarily by his instruction, and subsequently by the
illumination of the Holy Spirit, they were made competent to show that “thus it
is written that the Christ should suffer, and rise again from the dead the third
day.”

Finally, it is implied in the commission, and is elsewhere expressly taught,
that the Spirit for whose coming they were to wait was to come as a witness —
bearing testimony concurrent with their own. We read, for instance, in John
15:26-27 : “But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the
Father, even the Spirit of truth which proceedeth from the Father, he shall
testify of me; and ye also shall bear witness, because ye have been with me from
the beginning.” Afterwards, therefore, Peter and the other apostles might well
say: “We are his witnesses of these things; and so is also the Holy Spirit, whom
God hath given to them that obey him” (Acts 5:32).

It must now, I think, be sufficiently manifest that the design and expectation
of the Saviour were not to constrain men to accept him; their minds, their
wills, their self-hood were to be left intact; and they were to be led to him by
the presentation of proofs — evidences to convince them that he was the Christ;
and all the agencies were engaged in this enterprise, both natural and
supernatural, concurred in this design, and co-operated to this end.

As to the practical lesson which we may learn from the facts above stated, it is
not far to seek. It is a lesson of principle rather than of detail. We are not
able, as were the apostles, to bear orignal testimony to the facts of the
gospel; the Holy Spirit no longer witnesses with signs and wonders, and divers
miracles and gifts; but it by no means follows that testimony has ceased to be
necessary, or that in anything which may be properly called preaching it can be
dispensed with. It is just as true in this age as it was in the first, that
faith is the “belief of the truth”; and it is generated in precisely the same
way that it as in the beginning. Hence it may be noticed, doubtless many of my
readers have noticed, that the most successful preachers of our times — those
who are doing most to promote the honor and glory of Christ, by leading men to
trust and love and serve him — are those whose preaching is full of evidences. I
do not refer to the formal and systematized “evidences of Christianity”; nor yet
to evidences in support of the inspiration and authority of the Bible. The
occasions when these are necessary in the pulpit, if ever, are rare and special.
But what I mean is the presentation of the testimonies concerning Christ — the
testimonies as we have them treasured up for us in the written word. Surely if
Christ enjoined the use of this evidence, and if the apostles and the Holy
Spirit availed themselves of it — quoting, applying and urging it, as proof of
the Christ-hood and Divinity of Jesus — it is still valid for all the purposes
that it then subserved; and, with the addition of the New Testament, it gives us
a full and inexhaustible store of divine and most effective testimony. “Preach
the word” “Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures.” “He was bured
and rose again the third day according to the scriptures.” “The things which God
foreshowed by the mouth of all the prophets, that his Christ should suffer, he
thus fulfilled.” This, then, is the God-appointed road to faith. It is not by
talking about it, nor by insisting upon its importance, nor by explaining its
nature, its place in the Christian system, or its effect upon the conduct and
relations of him who believes — all of which has its interest and its subidiary
importance; but to produce it — to generate it in the heart — we must rely upon
“the testimony of Jesus” which is “the spirit of prophecy,” and upon those
suppletory evidences with which the New Testament everywhere abounds. “Faith
cometh” — cometh into existence — “by hearing the word of God.”

This chapter, and with it the general subject of the gospel, of which it forms a
part, may properly close with a word of encouragement. There is no higher office
nor honor than that of bearing witness to Christ. Apostles and prophets, angels
from heaven, the Spirit of God, and God himself, bear witness to him. And
although our testimony be, as it must be, only secondary and subordinate, it is
still of high consequence to give life and warmth and force to that which else
would be quiescent and inoperative. Whoever, therefore, is able, by study and
meditation, and by daily communion with God, to bring forth his testimony from
the fullness of his own soul and as the heartburst of his own love; nay, to
bring it forth with the tenderness, the grace and the power of the Divine Spirit
with which he is filled, may well feel that he is in fellowship with all highest
intelligences, and that he is engaged in the most sacred and most important of
vocations.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 9: CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ACCEPTANCE
========================================================================

We have at length reached an entirely new phase of our main subject. Hitherto
our attention has been fixed exclusively upon its divine aspects—what God has
done, and what, through his appointed means and agencies, he is now doing for
the salvation of men. We have been looking upon the vast and mighty streams of
force and influence flowing from his love and wisdom, and we have seen them at
length concentrated and brought together in the gospel as the one mighty “power
of God unto salvation.” Outside of this gospel, and concurrently with it, he is
doubtless still working in the sphere of his gracious providence—working in ways
which are “past finding out.” He rules the world. He has not retired from it. He
worketh all things after the counsel of his own will.

He stirreth up the sea with his power, And by his understanding he smiteth
through Rahab. By his spirit the heavens are garnished; His hand hath pierced
the swift serpent.

Lo, these are but the outskirts of his ways: And how small a whisper do we hear
of him! But the thunder of his power who can understand? (Jos 26:)

I sympathize with my fellow-men when their thoughts run in great channels like
the above; when they think of God's almighty power; of the omnipresence of his
Spirit; and of the boundlessness of his resources. And yet it is possible to
abuse these lofty conceptions by making them the basis of an unsafe and unsaying
trust. There is nothing in mere force, even though it be almighty force, that
can redeem and sanctify. The soul cannot be saved simply by the exertion upon it
of miraculous power! Startling as this proposition may be, and as doubtless it
will be to those who have been accustomed to rely upon such power, and to wait
and look and long and pray for it as the one thing needful, it is still
unquestionably the truth; and a moment's serious consideration, without bias or
prejudice, will show that it must be the truth. We have but to note that
miraculous power is nothing more than divine power, and that its exertion or
putting forth by the Divine Being is just as easy to him as that which
ordinarily reaches its end through the normal channels which we call laws. He
has but to will, and it is done. If, therefore, he desires, as he certainly
does, the salvation of men, and if that salvation could be accomplished by the
transforming influence of miraculous power—that is, by simply willing it to be
done—surely it is not possible for us to believe that he would withhold that
will. Nor can we believe that he would have sent his beloved Son into the world
to suffer the untold and immeasurable agonies of Gethsemane and the cross if
those for whom he died could have been saved by the mere exertion of his power.
It is also obvious to remark, and extremely suggestive to notice, that that
beloved Son while upon the earth, who had come expressly to seek and to save the
lost — and though his whole life was one grand display of supernatural power,
put forth in every sphere of our mundane existence, in nature, in human life, in
death, and even in the realm of the spirit world — yet so true was he to the
everlasting and immutable will of his Father, and so careful to preserve the
safeguards of our proper and necessary self-hood, he never exerted his
miraculous power directly upon the soul of a single human being. It seems not
once to have occurred to his perfect wisdom that a lost soul could be saved in
that way. These considerations, if duly weighed, can hardly fail to be deemed
conclusive upon the point in question.

But while very few might be disposed to regard miraculous agency as sufficient,
in and of itself, to accomplish the work of human 3 6 salvation, there are many
who look upon it as necessary in the way of antecedent preparation. The doctrine
appears to be that, although the direct and supernatural power of God cannot
really save the soul, it can and it does prepare the soul to be saved. I believe
that I should not overstate the position if I were to say not only that this
power ordinarily can and does, but that uniformly it must do this preliminary
work. The soul is thought to be so dead in sins, so dark in its understanding,
so enfeebled in all its powers, that it is not able to accept the gospel. It
must be quickened, illuminated, strengthened by an immediate influence of the
Holy Spirit, operating without means or agencies, directly upon and within the
substance of the soul itself. And if the state of human nature is indeed such as
is here postulated, it will at once be conceded that some such force, antecedent
and supplementary to that of the gospel, must also be postulated as a condition
of salvation sine qua non.

Nor is it to be wondered at that those who accept these postulates, and who feel
the necessity of adjusting their work to assumptions so fundamental and
controlling, not only preach the gospel of Christ, but along with it and in
front of it "another gospel" of the Holy Spirit. They are consistent in doing
so, and they would be quite inconsistent if they should act otherwise. For
certainly, if no man can accept the gospel until he is first quickened by a
power operating outside and independently of the gospel, such influence, as it
is to be first in his experience, should be first presented to his
consideration. Nay, more: the whole process of what, for want of a better word,
I may call modern revivalism hinges upon the same assumption, and is to be
approved or condemned along with it. This process is admirably calculated and
designed in its discourses, prayers, songs and other exercises, to fix the mind
of the expectant sinner upon the Holy Spirit as the power which is to come from
heaven to regenerate, to convert and to bless. We note especially the earnest
prayer to God—for in the main it is earnest, and its motive not to be 3 7
questioned—that he would send down the Holy Spirit; that he would pour' it out
upon those who are waiting for it and dependent upon it.

Now, it cannot escape the observation of anyone whose attention is directed to
it that in this procedure, and in the assumption which underlies it, there are
two distinct and separate objects and forces presented to the mind: the one
present, but of itself ineffectual, namely, the gospel; the other absent, but
inherently and alone powerful and efficacious—the Holy Spirit. The gospel, it
should be understood, is by no means ignored in this scheme. It is always
preached; frequently it is most ably, most tenderly, most pungently, preached.
But at the same time what seems to be expected from this preaching—what it is
supposed the gospel is designed to accomplish, and is able to accomplish—is not
the salvation of the soul, but the bringing home to it of the fact that it is
lost. When this effect is produced—which, as we shall see hereafter, is
certainly a necessary effect—it can do no more. The lost, helpless, impotent
soul must wait and look for the saving power to come in from without, from
abroad, from above. If it come, well and good; if it fail to come, there is no
help for it. There is no other resource.

I am far from believing that those whose evangelistic practices seem to justify
me in thus characterizing their position have really thought it over in detail
as I have presented it. Many of them perhaps are wholly unconscious of its
amazing incongruities; and they may even be shocked at the intimation that they
have really been preaching a Christless, Spiritless, Godless gospel; that is to
say, a gospel from which the saving influence of these divine personalities is
absent. Such in my judgment is the true meaning of their theory, and the
significance of their revival practices. And yet they are often signally
successful in turning men from sin and winning them to Christ; successful,
however, not because the theory upon which they proceed is true—for it certainly
is 3 8 not—but in spite of it; successful because, notwithstanding the error of
their theological assumption, they really preach Christ and him crucified, and
preach him with an unction and love generated in their own hearts by the Spirit
of God. And so they often impart and convey the saving grace treasured up in the
gospel, even while bewildering the minds of men by teaching them to look
elsewhere for it. But, oh, what tongue can tell, what imagination can conceive
the success of the gospel — its glorious and world-wide triumphs — if all who
believe and love it could be brought to preach it free from the confusions, the
inconsistencies, the incongruities with which theology has encumbered and
surrounded it!

I have already in a previous chapter emphasized the importance and necessity of
the Holy Spirit’s presence in the preacher. What I there said had reference
specifically and mainly to his personal qualification and endowment for the work
of the ministry. It was urged in effect, if now in terms, that he could not
properly bear the divine message to the world without himself being filled with
the divine Spirit. And now we come to say, with somewhat more distinctness than
formerly, that this is God’s method of imparting this Spirit to the world. Men
are not to expect it to come down from heaven; they are not to look beyond the
sea, nor down in the deep for it, nor even to think of it, so fare as they are
concerned with it, as something separate and foreign. It has its permanent
residence in the Church; and it puts forth its influence from the Church, its
living home, and through the Church, its living organ. Its gospel is there; not
the gospel bound up in a book—this is mere instruction, mere information
concerning it—but the gospel as it lives and breathes and glows in sanctified
hearts. And not the Church’s preaching only, but all its activities and blessed
states, its words of comfort and peace, its prayers, its praises, its
exhortations, its observances of the ordinances of grace—all are of the Spirit,
and pervaded by the Spirit; for the Church, the true Church of Christ, does and
must “live in the Spirit and walk in the 3 9 Spirit.” And when all the people of
God shall have learned, as, after a while, I trust that by his grace they will,
that for all the work of salvation and sanctification the Holy Spirit is not to
be regarded as a far-away influence, as a distant something which may or may not
come, but as an ever-present power, as the very atmosphere of the spiritual
body, in which and by which it lives and moves and has its being, they will
constitute, indeed, the Church of the living God. To use another image, all the
riches of grace have been gathered into God’s spiritual house; his fatlings are
killed; his table is spread; the feast is prepared; all things are ready. “And
the Spirit and the bride say, Come, and let him that heareth say, Come; and
whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” Human destiny hinges
upon the acceptance or rejection of this gospel call. How it is to be accepted
will next demand our careful consideration.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 10: CHAPTER EIGHT: THE GOSPEL BELIEVED
========================================================================

The elementary faith, or that which precedes justification, is not in all
respects identical with that repose of the soul upon God which characterizes the
Christian's faith or trust. The sinner begins his approach to this final goal by
believing something about God; and this something which he is first of all to
believe, and by believing which he is to be led on to ultimate salvation from
sin, and into fellowship with the Divine Being, is the gospel. But exactly in
what way the gospel operates to produce this result is a point which merits the
closest attention; and I feel that I could render no more profitable service to
my reader than by inducing him to think upon it. And if he should be led to a
careful and discriminative study of the scriptures bearing upon it, he could
hardly fail to find a rich reward.

It has not escaped the notice of anyone that .the facts which the apostles
proclaimed to the world as gospel, are two -- the death and resurrection of
Christ. In preaching to the Corinthians, the apostle, doubtless for some special
reason, also laid emphasis upon the fact of the burial — not, I presume, because
of any saving efficacy in this fact, but because it tended to show the reality
of the death and resurrection. Ordinarily these two constituted the substance of
the apostolic proclamation, and these alone are specified in the commission.

We can hardly avoid the supposition that when two elements were thus used which
were as totally unlike in their nature as death and life, and which had nothing
in common, each was expected to have an effect peculiar to itself. Death was not
to do the work of life, nor life that of death. We do not say here and now this
was so; we merely suggest it as a reasonable 4 1 preconception. But even if it
should prove to be the case, we should still expect that elements so intimately
associated in the apostles’ thought and speech would sometimes be referred to
without discriminating their several and special work. We are not surprised,
consequently, to find that in certain passages where only the grand results of
the gospel are before the mind the whole effect is ascribed now to one and now
to the other of these two forces. At the same time, whenever it is deemed proper
for any reason to specialize them, the distinction between their respective
functions is clearly stated and consistently maintained.

When we read, for example, that we are “justified by his blood,” that he
“appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself,” that “we have redemption
through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins,” and other passages of like
force, I do not understand these scriptures to teach the direct and immediate
effect of his blood, of his sacrifice, but rather the ultimate and consequential
results. His death made all this possible; it brought a changed condition of
things which led up to it — but in every deed it is God and only God who
justifieth, who forgiveth sin, who redeemeth the soul. For it is manifest that
these are effects which naturally proceed from life, and not from death.

But now let us look at a few examples of scriptures like the following: “And you
that were sometimes alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now
hath he reconciled in the body of his flesh through death” (Colossians 1:21-22).
“That he might reconcile both in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity
thereby” (Ephesians 2:16). “For if, when we were enemies we were reconciled to
God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by
his life” (Romans 5:10).

It is not easy to mistake the force and bearing of the texts, but a few words of
comment which they teach, while at the same time 4 2 illustrating the nature and
effect of the elementary faith of the gospel.

Enemies of God are his adversaries and antagonists. They not only oppose him,
but, like the servants in the parable, they hate him. But it should be noted
that unfriendliness and hatred spring from a cause, real or supposed; and in
this case the cause is the supposed harshness and tyranny of God, who is thought
of as “a hard Master.” The result is the separation of man from God, and his
disobedience and rebellion. Now in order to correct this erroneous opinion, and
so bring man back into friendship with God, it is necessary to prove to him in
some way that it is false, nay, that the very opposite is the truth; that God is
really compassionate; that he desires to promote the happiness and well being of
his creatures; that he truly loves them, and seeks earnestly to save and to
bless them; and that, notwithstanding their rebellion, he stands ready to
forgive them and to receive them back into his favor.

The believe of these propositions must come in every instance from an attentive
hearing and candid consideration of the gospel message. In no case can it be
produced without this message. It is not something to handed down immediately
from heave. It is not an effect wrought by any abstract or mysterious influence.
Men must all be taught of God. In order to save sinners, God approaches them
first of all with his word. He speaks to them. He demands their attention. He
calls upon them to hear — to listen — for he has something he wishes to say to
them. And then he speaks of his merciful disposition; that he does not desire
the death of any, but rather that all should turn to him and live; and that he
would welcome them back, forgiving all their sins, and filling their hearts with
joy and gladness.

And now the proof of all this — for it requires proof; it is intrinsically so
improbable, so contrary to all the sinners preconceptions, that he naturally
hesitates, and waits to be assured. And precisely here it is that we see the
meaning and force of Christ’s death. For that death was not a mere “economic
arrangement”; not the execution of a cold “plan,” which demanded it at a certain
point; not a “scheme,” nor a governmental “policy,” but the expression of a
divine heart. God so earnestly desired to save man, that he withheld not his own
Son, who was also in perfect sympathy with him, but freely sent him into the
world to try to save them; and so much was his heart in it, that, in the
prosecution of that effort, rather than abandon it, he even sacrificed his
beloved Son. And thus “God commendeth his love to us, in that while we were yet
sinners, Christ died for us.”

Now it must be evident that when this is once clearly perceived and really felt
to be true, the enmity which was based upon the negation of it is obliged to
give way. The supposed cause for hatred is displaced by the real cause for love.
And, however we may call this belief, whether primary, elementary, historical or
even intellectual, I am unable to understand how anyone — by the exercise of
whatever faculties — can accept this story as the truth, without at the same
time believing that God is love; and thus he is reconciled to him — “reconciled
to God by the death of his Son.” And just here I am reminded of one of Frederick
Robertson’s happy expressions. He says, “The death of Christ represented the
life of God.” Yes; for in representing what God is in his relation to the
sinner, it represented what he is in himself — essential Love.

I have felt called upon to present these reflections with some fullness, because
I have so often heard the death of Christ spoke of, and even tenderly spoken of,
but still in a way that could give no rational satisfaction to the heart. It
seemed to be presented, not as the means by which the soul is to led up to God,
but as an ultimate object — as an end and resting place in itself, and as 4 4
having mysterious and inexplicable saving power of its own. But in truth,
whenever we believe in and rely upon it as an isolated and independent fact,
apart from its significance and its natural effect, our faith is mystical and
without reason. “That Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures,” is
a precious truth. It is a part, but it only a part of the gospel by which we are
saved. It has its own necessary end to accomplish, an end which nothing else can
accomplish; we are reconciled to God by the death of his Son, but we are saved
by his life.

It is not deemed necessary to show in detail that the main tenor and current of
apostolic teaching is in harmony with the above conception. The thoughtful
student will perceive that their preaching of “Christ crucified” was in fact the
preaching of the living Christ who was crucified; or, in other words, it was
“Christ and him crucified”; Christ who had died for our offenses, and risen
again for our justification. And so the apostle asks: “Who is he that
condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather that is risen again.” And he is
not only risen from the dead, but he is exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour. In
one word, they preached him as he proclaimed himself, when he said: “I am he
that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am alive for evermore.”

And so this great gospel — with its death and its life, its crucifixion and its
resurrection, its shame and its glory — comes before us with all its elements
harmonized, that through it and in it we may look upon the loving and living
God, and upon his only begotten Son, our Saviour, who died for us and rose
again.

I have only to add that, in my apprehension of the matter, it is not necessary
for the sinner — if indeed it be for anyone — to settle or even to consider the
speculative questions which men have raised about the atonement, or the effect
of Christ’s death upon the Divine Being. The subject is beyond man’s power to
fathom. It is as deep as God.

But whether in our feeble thinking we regard the sacrifices of Christ as having
propitiated God, or having itself resulted for his already propitious
disposition; whether we regard it as cause or as effect, or as being simply the
appointed medium through which the grace of god could consistently and
righteously flow; whether we think of it as the payment of a debt, or as the
satisfaction of justice, or as having some other effect — so far as our present
inquiry is concerned it matters not. For whether we understand the sacrifice of
Christ simply reveals the gracious and propitious attitude of God, or that,
having first induced, it then reveals it — in either case it does reveal it; and
this is the one and only aspect of the subject in which the sinner is vitally
and practically interested. And now the effect upon him of seeing, believing,
and feeling this truth will demand careful consideration.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 11: CHAPTER NINE: CONVICTION OF SIN
========================================================================

We saw in the preceding chapter that the gospel, when believed, produced a
certain effect upon the sinner; and we noticed especially the effect produced by
believing the first proposition of the gospel proclamation, “that Christ died
for our sins according to the Scriptures.” We attempted to show that there was
an immediate and causal connection between the fact stated and the result; or,
in other words, that the death of the Son of God was naturally fitted by its
very meaning to produce the effect; and it will be remembered that we
characterized this effect as “reconciliation.” It may be necessary here,
however, in order to avoid any possible misconstruction, to state explicitly
that this primary “reconciliation” comes far short of that complete restoration
to friendship and fellowship exhibited in the life and character and conduct of
a Christian. This latter is reconciliation in fact—in practical relations—and is
the goal towards which the former begins to lead the believing sinner. But at
present we are considering him at the starting point, when he first perceives
and recognizes, in the sending and the sacrifice of Christ, a manifestation of
God’s true character and attitude. This overcomes his own feeling of
estrangement and enmity. He sees that he has been acting upon a false view, and
that consequently his whole past course of rebellion was wrong. He sees God in
Christ, and in the history of Christ; and so for him the prayer of the Saviour
is answered: “That the world may believe that thou didst send me” (John 17:21.)

And this brings before us a question which however simple in itself, and however
clearly answered in the Scriptures, has been so complicated by polemic
discussions that, to the popular mind, it seems confused and difficult. I refer
to the proper and natural effect of faith. Many persons think of faith as being
a sort of arbitrary appointment, important because God has prescribed it, but
having no vital and necessary connections with the blessings which succeed it.
These blessings are thought of very much like the child in a school thinks of
the prize offered by the teacher for diligence in study. He well knows that
there is nothing in his diligence which tends to produce the prize; that it is
in no sense causative, but only conditional; and conditional merely because the
teacher has so appointed and declared. The natural effect diligence upon the
mind and upon the character and attainments of the scholar in one thing, and the
reward or prize, coming in ab extra, is a totally different one. Now I do not
think that any of the blessings ascribed to faith in the New Testament are given
as a prize, or as an independent reward; they all come through it and out of it
as a normal effect. Faith is calculated and fitted in the very nature of things
to bring to pass certain results; and these are what we shall find in the
Scriptures ascribed to it.

When we thus look upon faith as something grounded in the very nature of God and
of man and of their relations to each other—as something, therefore, which was
not made true by being revealed, but which was revealed because it is true—we
shall not be surprised to find that the very first effect of this faith is one
which seems to be conducting the soul away from salvation. We are not surprised,
I say, because we see at once that this effect is normal and natural. The
recognition and belief of the truth concerning God and Christ, so far from
comforting and gladdening the heart, fill it with distress and anguish. But
unfortunately, instead of a proper interpretation of this fact, instead of
looking upon it as a necessary result of true belief, most of us have been
taught to regard it as indicating something wrong or defective in the belief
itself; and the believing sinner is gravely told in his distress that what he
needs, and all that he needs, is to believe! But I am obliged to think that the
man’s faith is all right. He believes in God and Christ, and in all that has
been done and 4 8 suffered for him — believes it truly and heartily; and it is
just because he does thus believe it that he is unhappy. What he needs,
therefore, is not faith, for he has that; he has enough of it, and it is the
right faith, and it is exercised in the right way, and it is having its right
effect. What he needs, and what he feels in his soul that he needs, is to get
into the right practical relations with God. The distressed state of mind which
is called conviction, and which is implied rather than expressed in the
commission, is brought clearly and formally to our attention in John 16:8-9 :
“And he *the Comforter] when he is come, will convict the world in respect of
sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: of sin, because they believe not on
me” (Revised Version). There are several points connected with this result which
call for special notice:

1. It is the work of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, or Advocate. He generates
in the heart this profound sense of guilt and sin. It is not something that
rises spontaneously in the consciousness; it is a product, the effect of an
efficient cause, and that cause is the Divine Spirit. We may hence conclude that
without the presence and operation of that cause the effect would never be.

2. This efficient cause operates to produce the effect stated, primarily through
the apostles, and secondarily through the church and ministry. These, as stated
in a previous chapter, constitute his organs, or the medium of communication
between himself and the world; and it is through this medium, which he fills
with his own light and truth and power, that he operates upon the world.

3. In effecting this work he uses, through the agency of these same organs, the
gospel of Christ, in all the length and breadth of its facts, and in all the
height and depth of their meaning. This gospel thus preached, with the Holy
Spirit sent down from heaven, and with all the accumulated and cumulative
testimonies in its support, produces in given cases faith, or a deliberate and
heartfelt assurance that it is the truth; and, consequently, that God himself
is, in very deed, what he is there represented to be, but what the sinner has
never before believed that he really was. And thus in this very faith is
revealed to him the enormity of the sin and guilt of his past life. He is
“convicted of sin.” He realizes his desperate wickedness, and wakes up to the
fact that he is lost! — lost because he is out of proper relations with God, the
only source of life and salvation.

But some one may say that my whole argument here is directly opposed to the
teaching of the text upon which I have assumed to base it; that while I urge
that the Spirit convicts men of sin through faith, the text declares that it
does so because of their want of faith. This objection, if viewed simply upon
the surface, and without reference to explanatory Scriptures, would seem
plausible. The text certainly does declare that “he shall convict the world of
sin. . . because they believe not on me.” And now, whatever this means is the
truth.

It is scarcely necessary for me to say that I fully believe not only that
unbelief is somehow connected with the “conviction,” but that it is the ground
and cause of it. This is expressly stated, and puts the fact beyond controversy;
but it does not settle the question as to the location of that fact. At what
period of the sinner’s history can unbelief be predicated of him? Shall we say
it is after he believes the gospel or before! It seems to me that to ask this
question is to answer it. Surely, after the Holy Spirit has brought the sinner
to believe in Christ, he will not convict him of sin because of his then
unbelief. There would be no ground for it. The existing fact would not justify
it. It would really be convicting a man of sin for having yielded to the
Spirit’s influence. But the accumulation of guilt and sin, resulting from the
whole previous life of unbelief, is a present fact and all-sufficient ground for
conviction.

The usually accepted doctrine of two faiths, each before justification, the one
“historical,” the other “saving,” confuses the intellect, while it makes dark
many an otherwise luminous passage of holy writ. In this particular case, for
example, the text is viewed through the medium of what is thought of as saving
faith, and it is supposed to be the absence of this that constitutes the ground
of conviction — as though the Holy Spirit would convict a man of sin for not
exercising the kind of faith which is thought by those who teach it to be the
immediate gift of Heaven, which the Saviour never mentions, and which an apostle
mentions only to repudiate. I beg to suggest that if, instead of the phrase
“saving faith,” we were to accustom ourselves to speak of “the faith of the
saved” in distinction from that of the “unsaved,” we should point out a
difference that is important and scriptural; while at the same time we should
avoid the expression of any preconception as to the process of transition from
the one to the other. The faith of the unjustified or unsaved would then
uniformly be understood to be the “belief of the truth,” the belief of the word,
the belief of the gospel. That is what it is, and that is all that it is. If
that does not save the sinner—and of course it does not—it is not because the
faith is not of the right sort, but because he needs something else besides
faith. And in my judgment if, instead of pointing to him to that something else,
we put him to looking for a different kind of faith, which he does not know
where to find, nor how to get, we are misleading him.

But to return to the meaning of the text which is under review, we have,
happily, recorded examples of the performance of this very work of the Spirit.
The first instances give—found in the second chapter of Acts—is at once luminous
and conclusive. In brief, the Apostle Peter preached the gospel — the Holy
Spirit using him for that purpose; he bore witness to its fundamental facts,
confirming his testimony by the Scriptures, and thus proved it to be the truth.
Those who heard became satisfied that it was the truth; they recognized it as
such; they believed it; and at that very moment, and in consequences of that
very fact, they were cut to the heart—“convicted of sin.” But why? Manifestly
not because of any defect or error in their present belief, for that was
produced by the Spirit, and of course it was all right; but they were painfully
distressed and conscience-stricken because in their previous unbelief they had
rejected and crucified their own Messiah. And now, what is to become of them?
What shall they do? What shall any sinner do who is in the same condition? The
great commission of the Saviour, as interpreted by the Holy Spirit will answer.
If what is wanted at this point is more faith, or a different sort of faith, it
will tell us so. Or if something else besides faith is needed, it will tell us
that, and tell us what; and its answers will be authoritative and final.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 12: CHAPTER TEN: REPENTANCE
========================================================================

It is not to be expected that in all cases the feelings resulting from
conviction of sin will be equally anguishing. They will naturally correspond in
depth and pungency to the character of the antecedent life. A young girl trained
up from her childhood under Christian influences, who has been taught from the
very first the true character of God as shown in the blessed work and sufferings
of Christ, who has never disbelieved in the Lord, and much of whose conduct has
been regulated and modified by conscious reference to his will, cannot be
classed with the Jews who crucified him, nor with Saul of Tarsus who murdered
his followers, “ignorantly in unbelief.” If such a girl should come to believe
that, like Saul, she was “the chief of sinners,” or that, like the Jews, she was
guilty of betraying and murdering the Lord Jesus, it would not be the truth.
Whatever may be concluded by metaphysical theology, I am clearly of the opinion
that our Sunday-school scholars should not be led to think that they must
experience, in order to their conversion, a sense of guilt which would be
appropriate only to a Herod or Caligula. And yet even the best of these scholars
have not lived up to their light; they have often gone into forbidden paths, and
they are guilty of sins — sins of omission and of commission. In general the
world with its allurements and pleasures have captivated their hearts and led
them away from Christ. They may have wandered off thoughtlessly, but still it
was with the latent feeling that the requirements of God were unfriendly to
them, and hence that he himself also was unfriendly. In demanding perfect
consecration, involving self-denial and cross-bearing, it came to be felt that
he was interfering with their true interest, and working against their highest
happiness. And so in every case we find evidences of that same false judgment of
which we previously spoke, that he is a hard Master; that he demands more than
he should; and that his demands are for his own sake, and nor for theirs. We
see, then, that in the best cases, as in the worst, the root of the trouble and
danger is the same. All alike are out of proper relations with God—and of course
the same is true of every intermediate shade and degree of sinfulness. In the
case of the best, therefore, as well in that of the worst; or, as they are
called in the parable of “both good and bad,” the same change of relations has
to be effected, and effected in the same way. All alike must perceive and
recognize in the gospel the love of God and of Christ; it must be brought home
to the heart, must be believed as the very truth of God, resulting in the
conviction of sin for not having previously believed it and acted upon it.

We recur, then, to the question, “What is to be done?”

I think it is to respond to this question, which thus naturally arises at this
particular stage of the sinner’s progress, that our Saviour prescribes in the
commission the preaching of repentance in his name. And this prescription, it
may be will to note, is precisely adapted to that condition of the sinner to
which it is designed to apply. It tells him in fact and tells him with authority
and encouragement, to go forward and do the very thing which, in his present
state, he is strongly, and as it were naturally, disposed to do. We may indeed
suppose (so perfectly is the gospel adjusted to man’s nature) that if the word
repentance had never been uttered, nor any word equivalent to it, men convicted
of sin would still in some sense have repented, being moved thereto by the very
instincts of their souls. Deprived of the instructions of the gospel, they would
not doubt have proceeded with more or less blundering and uncertainty; while,
deprived of its promises, they would have lacked an important incentive to
repentance. The nature impulse needs the reinforcement and the authoritative
direction which the gospel supplies; but that such impulse exists, as a fact in
our nature, whenever we are brought into the condition mentioned, is clearly
seen in the case of the Ninevites. Jonah said not a word about repentance, but
he brought them to believe in God, and thus convicted them of sin. This was all
that he expected, and, as it appears, all that he desired, to accomplish. But
when brought to this condition, they, of their own motion, “repented at the
preaching of Jonah.” And now what did they do! The question, it will be
perceived, is important in this view; as the Saviour calls what they did
repentance, it will help us to the meaning of the word. Stated as briefly as
possible, therefore, what they was the following:

1. They humbled themselves. It matters not how they were moved to express that
humility; we are concerned alone with the fact.

2. They cried mightily unto God; that is, they turned to him with earnest and
hearty prayer.

3. The turned, every one, from his evil way, and from the violence that was in
their hands.

I presume we could hardly find a better illustration of what Christ meant by
repentance than that here given. Let us notice, then, that in its essence it is
a mental movement—a turning of the mind to God. This is implied in the meaning
of the original word, translated repentance, namely, change of mind. But apart
from the examples and explanations given in the Scriptures, we should not know,
for the word itself, precisely what “change of mind” was signified. The apostle,
however, helps us onward in the direction of the full meaning when he speaks of
“repentance toward God.” The idea evidently is that, antecedently to repentance,
the mind, or the inner man, embracing both the intellect and the affections, has
been looking and moving in the opposite direction—away from God; and repentance
is the change of the mind toward God. The thoughts turn to him; the heart
becomes interested in him and begins to seek him. It is that point in the
parable when the prodigal says, “I will rise and go to my father.” But before
reaching this point—nay, before he can reach it—the prodigal becomes very
humble. He must feel that he has sinned, and gone far away from the home and
heart of love, and that he is no more worthy to be called a son. This is the
sackcloth of the soul—this “godly sorrow for sin”—this feeling which makes the
poor man still say “Father,” while ashamed to call himself a “son.”

And let us repeat once more that all this—the penitential grief, the humility,
the sackcloth, the shame, aye, and the good resolution which follows—all this is
in perfect harmony with the nature of the case. There is nothing strained here;
no arbitrary appointment; no foreign requirement brought in and imposed upon
us—nothing manufactured and introduced to make up a “system”; but on the
contrary, the All-seeing Eye seems to be simply looking on, while it points out
to us what really is the truth. And such indeed is the high province of the
divine revelation; it is not to make truth, but to make it known.

But there is one other element in repentance. The Ninevites “turned every one,
for his evil way.” It should be observed that, although this part of the great
change is closely connected with what John the Baptist called “fruits meet for
repentance,” it is not, even in though, to be identified with those fruits.
Whatever is involved in “repentance” is complete in conception and in fact
before it produces any fruits. We shall have no difficulty in understanding this
if we keep clearly before us the definition of the word repentance—change of
mind; or the characterization of it which I have herein expressed, as a “mental
movement.” It is the deliberate purpose and the fixed and determined resolve to
abandon every evil way, which constitutes “repentance”; while the carrying out
this resolution in the subsequent life and conduct give the fruits of
repentance. We can see, therefore, how the people on the day of Pentecost could
obey the command to repent on the “same day” that it was given, and some of them
at least, from the very necessities of the case, in a very short while after it
was given. There was time enough for the mind to change toward God, and resolve
upon its new course, but not enough time for fruit bearing. It is true that the
act of baptism immediately following might in some sense be characterized as a 5
6 fruit of repentance, but it is very clear that such not th meaning that John
the Baptist attached to the word.

It remains to say that this final change of mind—this resolution to abandon
sin—is just as indispensably necessary as the previous one. Christ did not come
to save a man in his sins, nor does he offer to do it. If salvation means, as in
its deep and true sense it does, the restoration of the lost soul to communion
with God, we are not to think for a moment that he can have fellowship with sin;
and hence, so long as sin is retained and cherished in the mind, so long as we
cling to it, and refuse to give it up, we are necessarily kept away from God,
and debarred from salvation. Hence, he commands all men everywhere to repent—to
cease to do evil, and learn to do well—for, “As I live,” saith the Lord God, “I
have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his
way and live” (Ezekiel 33:11).

Such then, is that “first principle of the doctrine of Christ” which is called
repentance. The soul, convicted of sin, humbles itself under a deep sense of its
unworthiness and guilt, and its consequent remoteness from God; and turning with
loathing from its evil ways, resolves to seek the Lord while he may be found,
and to call upon him while he is near (for he has come near in the person of
Christ), and so it moves back “toward God.”

But now will it hold out in its purpose, will it go on in this right direction,
will it continue its seeking, till it finds him! We have yet to see whether it
will be willing to take the remaining steps which Christ has shown to be
necessary in order to bring it to God.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 13: CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE CONFESSION OF FAITH
========================================================================

Hitherto we have traced the career of the sinner as through he was isolated and
alone in the world. His experiences have had no bond of connection with his
fellow-men. What he has felt and done has been wholly without reference to them.
He heard, believed, suffered, repented, all for himself, and only for himself —
all as he would have done if he had been the only man upon the earth. And even
as it was, amid the surroundings of friends and companions, who might have been
disposed to be sympathetic or otherwise, all this work may have been going on in
secret. The seed sown in the soil of the heart was covered up, and there in the
darkness, all unobserved by human eye, it has undergone wonderful
transformations and developments, and now it ready to spring up into the light
of day.

Walking as we have been doing along the path of First Principles, and examining
them one by one, in regular succession, we have at length reached the point
where a man can no longer live only for himself, where he is obliged to bring
out and profess, or confess, that which is in his heart. It is true that
not-withstanding this confession may embrace other than personal considerations,
it does first of all inure to his own individual benefit. It brings to him a
blessing — a blessing which, as with the other elements which we have been
considering, seems to be naturally involved in it. This is a point which has not
received perhaps as much attention as it merits. All these principles are
greatly enhanced in interest, and their importance becomes far more manifest
when we are brought to perceive and appreciate that they are grounded in the
nature of things, and that each is perfectly fitted and adapted to accomplish
its own special and necessary work. We have seen that this is true of all the
elements which have preceded and led up to the confession, and now we come to
ask, “Why should a man confess his faith in Christ?” Certainly it is not to let
Christ know that he believes, for he searches the heart and understands the
thought afar off. He already knows what is in man, and needs not that any should
tell him. But in its very nature the confession of faith is more or less public;
it is made “before men,” and, as the apostle declares, it is “to the glory of
God, the Father.” Of course it can add nothing to his essential glory, but it
extends the knowledge of it. The open, public and solemn avowal that Jesus who
was crucified as owned, acknowledged and confessed as God’s own Son and Lord of
all, is really the proclamation of the fact that “God so loved the world that he
gave his only begotten Son” to save it. And this is his glory.

I think it should be more insisted upon and emphasized that the confession of
Christ as Lord is to be made for the sake of others, as well as for the benefit
of him who makes it. But we have so constantly presented and urged these latter
benefits as the real and only motives to confession that we have will night lost
sight of the fact that in truth it is the birthplace of the unselfish element in
religion; and not simply of the unselfish, but of the philanthropic. The true
confessor has been brought by his faith and repentance so near to God that he
begins here to reflect his light and love upon the world. And it cannot be
doubted that every time the confession is made its tendency, to say the least,
is to do good to somebody else, and generally it accomplishes this result. We
should, therefore, more frequently and directly address this high principle of
unselfish benevolence, calling it into exercise as the reason and motive, for
making the confession. That it will react salutary upon the confessor himself is
of course true, for “confession is made unto salvation”; and this consideration
may properly be presented in connection. But the time has come in the sinner’s
progress when, if he is to be saved, he must not only perceive the love of God
in the gospel, but he must begin to feel and to manifest it in his own heart.
And that love in its very essence is sacrificial; it is poured out for the good
of others. Thus the confession is lifted from a mere selfish seeking of good to
a Christ-like impartation of it. Thus, too, it ceases to be thought of as only a
formal prescription in the “appointed order” of conversion — as a sort of
necessary preliminary to the next succeeding step — and it becomes elevated in
conception, ennobled, divinized.

The form of words in which this confession may best be made was revealed from
Heaven to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; and with amazing wisdom it
concentrates in a single sentence the whole essence of the gospel. When this
revelation had been given to the Apostle Peter, he uttered it to the Saviour in
these memorable terms: “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” These
are pregnant words. All the writings of evangelists and apostles are but the
development and elaboration of their profound meaning. Nay, they reach back into
preceding ages, and draw into themselves the significance of all revealed type
and symbol and shadow, together with the essence of deepest prophetic
fore-announcements made by men who spake as they were moved by the Holy Spirit.

An intelligent confession made substantially in the above state form of words,
and made honestly and from the heart, is equivalent to the solemn, formal and
public declaration that the confessor not only recognizes Jesus in the offices
and character mentioned, but that he thus personally and practically accepts
him. It is the deliberate and voluntary committal of himself to Christ—for weal
or woe, for cross or crown; and it is the making known of this fact to his
fellow-men.

The meaning of the words of the revealed confession is familiar to every one—so
familiar that only the briefest exposition of it is here is necessary. All have
been taught that the term “Christ” is an official designation, and signifies
that God the Father has anointed the Son to fill the three offices whose
functions are necessary to man’s salvation. Hence, in confessing him to be the
“Christ,” the confessor accepts him in these three official relations. That is
to say:

1. As Prophet, or Teacher sent from God. He is recognized as being fully
competent and officially authorized to make known the ways of God in truth. The
words that he speaks are words that were committed to him to speak—they are
words of God. He says: “I speak to the world those things which I have heard of
him” (John 8:26); “As my Father hath taught me, I speak these things” (John
8:28); “I speak that which I have seen with my Father” (John 8:38). “The Father
which sent me, he gave me a commandment what I should say, and what I should
speak” (John 12:49). “The words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself, but
the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works” (John 14:10).

2. As Priest or High Priest—in which office he discharges in very deed and
reality the functions shadowed forth in the Mosaic priesthood. With all the deep
meaning and object of a true sacrifice, he offered himself without spot or
blemish to God. But though he was “slain for us,” God raised him up to live
forevermore, to discharge in an unchangeable priesthood in heaven the office of
mediation and intercession. Thus while as Prophet he represents God to man, as
Priest he represents man to God.

3. As King—having all authority in Heaven and on earth, and with the divine
right to rule and reign over all the sons of men; to rule not simply over them,
but in them — their very thoughts and affections being rightfully subject to his
will.

And now, finally, he is worthy to fill these high offices, because he is the Son
of “the living God.” His nature, therefore, is God’s nature. He is “the
brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person.” “In him dwelleth
all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.” The confessor, in acknowledging and
accepting Jesus as the Son of God, will not comprehend (for who indeed can
comprehend?) the mysteries of the divine nature and of its tri-personal
manifestation; but he can know that in some high sense the Son and the Father
are one, and that all the love and mercy and tenderness displayed in the life
and death of the Son reveal to us at the same time the heart of the Father. And
so, believing all this in his heart, he comes back as a wandering prodigal to
confess it with his mouth, well knowing that in calling Jesus Christ, who is his
brother, the Son of the living God, he is really saying and feeling that that
God is his own Father. And now in his rags and poverty, in his sin and shame,
deeply conscious of all that he has forfeited, and deeply sensible of his great
unworthiness, he can only say, as he looks into the benignant face that comes to
meet him, “Father! — Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in they sight,
and am no more worthy to be called thy son.”

This, I think, is the point to which the confession of Christ “with the mouth”
brings the sinner. He has given up his pride and folly; he has abandoned his
evil ways; he has changed his mind and purpose, and has resolved to turn unto
the Lord; and in the furtherance of that resolve he has ventured to draw near —
but still in his guilt and sin — and there in the presence he confesses his sin,
by confessing his faith in Him who alone can forgive it. And now the robe and
the shoes, the ring and the fatted calf — is he willing to receive them? Is he
willing to humble himself yet further, that he may receive them as a gracious
and unmerited gift? Is he willing, in short, to receive them in the Father’s own
way? We shall see.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 14: CHAPTER TWELVE: BAPTISM
========================================================================

Disregarding minor differences, the following exhibit will show with sufficient
fullness the present views of religious society on the question of baptism:

1. That the word, as used by the Saviour in the institution of the ordinance,
meant immersion, and only immersion, or some equivalent, such as dipping; and
that this original meaning of the word must still direct and control us in the
administration of the ordinance. Without exception, so far as I know, those who
maintain this view also believe that a personal profession of faith is a
necessary prerequisite to any authorized baptism.

2. That which the original word is conceded to mean immersion, the substance or
essence of the ordinance is not dependent upon that precise action. This view
seems to regard the baptismal formula, or, at any rate, something distinct from
the act, as the essential thing in baptism, and that this something,
consequently, is not necessarily bound to immersion. Hence, that the sprinkling
or pouring of water upon the subject, in connection with the baptismal formula,
will accomplish the same end as if the subject were immersed in water; that it
will reach the same object, though proceeding to it by a different road; and
that that object is the real and true baptism, as distinguished from the mere
mode of its administration. Those who hold this view also believe that the
ordinance may rightfully be administered to infants, especially those of
believing parents, or other competent sponsors.

3. That the word as applied to the institution of baptism, whatever its
signification in the classics and in common use, does not properly mean
immersion at all, but rather purification or cleansing; and that, consequently,
the action of baptism is best indicated by the pouring forth of the Holy Spirit
upon the apostles, when they were baptized upon the day of Pentecost. This view
also contemplates the baptism of infants.

While I shall not here enter into an elaborate discussion of these points, and
shall say nothing in a controversial spirit, it will be appropriate, in the
interest of truth, and in view of the great importance of the subject, briefly
to remark upon them. Taking them, then, in reverse order, I am obliged to regard
the third view as most unfortunate; for while its influence upon the baptismal
controversy is extremely slight, failing as it does to command the respect of
the most eminent scholastic authorities, its advocacy is on other grounds to be
deeply deplored. For if its conclusion respecting baptism is true, it might
certainly be shown without assuming a position which necessarily calls in
question and puts in doubt the only basis upon which it is possible for us to
have any trustworthy revelation from God. Certainly it the words of such
revelation do not have the significations which were current at the time they
were used, we have no means of getting at their true sense, which is equivalent
to saying that it cannot be to us a revelation. I grant that in the argument the
assumption is limited to the word baptism—that it was not used in its current
and well-understood sense. But if it is legitimate and right to assume this with
reference to one word, why may we not deal in the same way with others? Who is
to prescribe the limit? And by what sign shall we ever know, while reading,
whether we are upon this or that side of the boundary?

I may dismiss the position in question with the remark that it was not the
original basis of the doctrine which it has been brought in to support. That
doctrine had been long held and taught upon other grounds, and it was only an
afterthought that suggested this peculiar and remarkable interpretation of the
Saviour’s word, as a 6 4 means by which the commission could be harmonized with
the doctrine.

The second of the views above tabulated is not exposed to the same fatal
objection. It recognizes fully the proper sense of the divine word, and frankly
avows it. It seeks neither to hide it nor to pervert it, but on the contrary it
openly acknowledges and proclaims it. We are obliged to admit, whatever our own
views may be, that this course is honorable and respectable. It places the issue
where it legitimately belongs. There is no equivocation about the meaning of the
word baptism. That is a settled thing, known and recognized by all genuine
scholarship. It signifies immersion, dipping, plunging; and it has no secondary
meanings which are inconsistent with these. And now, after thus candidly and
fairly conceding the proper sense of the word, it submits a proposition
respecting the thing. It says in effect that that which was instituted was not
identical with the word which created the institution. Of course every one
perceives that this might have been so. It is conceivable. We may join issue at
this point, and deny that in fact it was so; but we shall feel that we are in a
Christian atmosphere, beyond the region of mere quibbling and equivocation. We
have a distinct issue of fact, and in my opinion, so far as the action of
baptism is concerned, it presents the only ground upon which any discussion can
be entered upon with the likelihood of reaching profitable conclusions. It is
also encouraging to note that those who have presented this issue are, in the
main, not only gentlemen of lofty character, but of fine scholarship. I feel
confident, therefore, inasmuch as I have tried to state their positions fairly,
and to characterize it without terms of disparagement, that such objections as I
may feel constrained to file against it will be considered in the spirit of
dispassionate candor in which they are offered.

1. My first objection to the view as stated is that it is not clear. I have
sought to present it as distinctly as possible; and I have certainly succeeded
in making it as plain as its advocates have usually done, if not, indeed, much
plainer. And yet I very much doubt whether the general reader will be able,
after all, even to conceive of baptism apart from its action. I have already
granted that in some sense it is conceivable; but still it must be allowed that
the lines separating the act for the institution, the baptizing from the
baptism, are somewhat blurred and confused. The conception is thus difficult
from the fact that the act and the ordinances seem to be inseparably blended, so
much so that when we eliminate the former, the latter also disappears. We cannot
find it. We cannot even think of it. Where there is no baptizing there is no
baptism. Hence, whatever mental discriminations we may make between the, we are
obliged to view them as a unit, having no separate and independent existence.

2. But let us suppose the difficulty removed and that in spite of the mist and
obscurity encompassing the subject, we have succeeded in conceiving of baptism
as a veritable entity distinct from any action, and consequently that some
action other than immersion may contain that entity and bring us the same
blessing, we are still forced to ask, “What action?” It will hardly be held, I
suppose, that any action whatever will answer the purpose. There must be some
reason for giving one the preference over others; some baptismal mark or sign
designating it as right and proper, and supplying the desired assurance that it
would serve for baptism. But in the absence of any definite utterance of the
Scriptures, the determination of the question is certainly not without
difficulty, which it involves a serious responsibility. Conceding, as the
representatives of the view we are considering do, that the Saviour commanded to
immerse, they cannot have failed to give the most profound and prayerful
consideration to the matter before deciding upon a substitute action; and among
the many possible substitutes, is it by any means certain that they have fallen
upon the right ones? Even admitting, therefore, for the sake of the argument,
that the essence of baptism may be imparted by some other action, it does not
follow that it could be imparted by any other; and I am free to confess that I
know of no valid reason designating either sprinkling or pouring as having
superior claims in this regard.

But not only is the questions of the sufficiency of the substitute, for
baptismal purposes, seen thus to be uncertain and doubtful, but a still graver
doubt arises respecting the authority to make any change at all. If Christ
nowhere authorized even his inspired apostles to do other than execute the
commission as he gave it, with no hint or intimation that he contemplated any
departure from it or alteration of it, “even to the end of the world,” can we be
certain that the church was justified in substituting sprinkling or pouring for
immersion, or that he approves or sanctions the change? I press these questions
in no partisan spirit, and with no ulterior aims, but because to my mind they
are serious questions; and they are such as I can but ask, when I read the able
and scholarly proofs and candid admissions made by eminent Christian teachers,
that the word used by the Saviour meant immersion, while they yet claim that
something else is equally valid, authoritative, and efficacious.

I have no reason for preferring the first of the three views mentioned at the
head of this chapter, other than its simple and literal conformity to the words
of Holy Scripture. If the term used by the Saviour in instituting the ordinance
meant immerse, as all competing and ingenuous scholarship freely concedes, it is
certainly safe to retain the practice of immersion until the same divine
authority abrogates it, or sets it aside for some other. The avoids all the
uncertainty and doubt which must necessarily inhere in the views already
considered. With this practice it matters not whether baptism be regarded as a
divinely appointed and significant act, or as an institution, or as both
combined in one; in any case we have the most satisfactory assurance that what
we administer is literally and truly “an ordinance of the New Testament,” or, as
others express it, “a sacrament of the New Testament, ordained by Jesus Christ,
not only for the solemn admission of the party baptized into the visible Church,
but also to be unto him a sign and seal of the covenant of grace, of his
ingrafting into Christ, of regeneration, of remission of sins, and of giving up
unto God, through Jesus Christ, to walk in newness of life; which sacrament is,
by Christ’s own appointment, to be continued in his Church until the end of the
world” (Presbyterian Confession of Faith, chapter 28). Certainly, if all or even
any of this is true, we cannot afford to have the slightest doubt or uncertainty
connected with our baptism. We must find that which was “ordained by Jesus
Christ,” and which, by his “own appointment, was to be continued in his Church
to the end of the world”; and we must accept it and be thankful for it.

Reverent, candid and competent scholarship, rising above mere party
considerations, has, to all intents and purposes, settled the first of these
points, namely, what was “ordained by Jesus Christ”; it was immersion—such being
the conceded meaning of the word which he used. And now the only practical
question remaining is whether this action which he prescribes is to be
“continued in his church to the end of the world.” I shall not argue this
question, but content myself with the expression of the hope that if the
Church’s “standard” is right, it will, sooner or later, realize the importance
of practically conforming to it.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 15: CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE PLACE OF BAPTISM
========================================================================

It is impossible for me to know how many of my readers may have sympathized with
the special object which in all the preceding chapters I have kept constantly in
view. Some of them, it is probable, have read with feelings of disappointment;
for while I have not refrained from opposing what seemed to me to be error, I
have not done so in a way that would be likely to bring comfort to the mere
controversialist. The antagonism of those with whom I differed has not, I trust,
been aroused; while I have contributed no supplies to the arsenal of those who
may have agreed with my positions. So far from assisting them in any belligerent
conflict, I have not even come upon the battle-field. Still, I recognize that
there are times and circumstances in which controversy is demanded. The truth
must be urged and advocated, whatever conflict it may bring. Error must be
assailed and driven from its strongholds, let the consequences be what they may.
The things which can be shaken must be shaken and removed, that those which
cannot be shaken may remain.

The present state of the religious public mind, however, is one which in general
calls not for war, but for peace. Men are emancipating themselves more and more
from old traditional influences, and are becoming able to study great cardinal
principles such as those which I have been discussing with a freedom, a candor
and an honesty of purpose which in other time was not practicable. They are
substituting investigation for mere advocacy, and hence are not seeking, as
formerly, simply to find props and supports for a preexisting conception. They
have discovered that the Bible was not written in the interest of their party,
and they are coming to feel with Tennyson that

Our little systems have their day—

They have their day and cease to be;

All are but broken parts of the, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

It has been my purpose, therefore, to present the first principles of the gospel
from no partisan angle and in no sectarian light, but simply as great vitalizing
and organizing elements of the truth; to point out their peculiar and gracious
adaptations to human wants; to lift them, in short, out of the coldness of
merely intellectual statement, and to exhibit them with something of the warmth
and freedom of living forces. Nor do I believe that anyone, however well
satisfied he may be of their superiority to other and rival principles, and
however clear and full be his logical comprehension of them, can properly
appreciate their divine significance and real value until he has removed them
from the plane of partisan contention into the region of life and use.

I have deemed it necessary to make these remarks in connection with the special
subject which I am now considering, because more than any other it has been
abused and maltreated. Every foot of ground which it covers has been fought
over, no only once, but again and again. These contests have always been warm,
and sometimes even bitter. Of course, the memory of them lingers still, while in
many hearts the old passions and prejudices are but lightly slumbering. Let us
not awake them, but lull them, if possible, into deeper sleep.

I should love, if it might be, to forget the things that are behind, and to
write without a moment’s consciousness of the bearings what I may say upon any
preoccupied position. But whether I succeed in this or not, in any case nothing
can deprive me of the comfort of knowing that personally I am totally
indifferent to whatever controversial interests may be involved. If I can
succeed in finding and exhibiting the doctrine of baptism as it is taught in the
Holy Scripture, my single aim and object will have been reached. I may,
therefore, safely pretermit any argumentative discussion of the question whether
infants are proper subjects of the ordinance, as the answer will be necessarily
implied in the statement of what the Scriptures really teach. This we shall now
seek to ascertain.

Recurring once more to the commission, we notice that the Saviour required the
apostles to baptize those whom they “discipled.” Primarily the obligations
rested upon them, and then of course, as a resulting duty, upon all who should
subsequently carry on the work of making disciples. Briefly stated, therefore,
the obligation to baptize rested and still rests upon the Church, or people of
God. These are the active agents, and are responsible to Christ for the
performance of the duty. The subject of the baptism is passive. Of course he
must voluntarily act in coming to the Church and placing himself in her hands.
This, however, is not baptism; and having done this, he becomes simply passive,
and submits to be baptized. As an inducement to this coming and this submission,
the Church is required to teach him that “he that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved.”

The word baptism, as we have already seen, means in the commission immersion,
or, as elsewhere explained in the Scripture, a “going down into the water,” as
the necessary preliminary to a burial in it. The word dipping covers the whole
of this double action; that is, the putting under and the lifting out, or the
burial and the resurrection. The mere force of the word does not embrace the
element in which the baptism is to take place. We might, for example, dip in oil
or wine, or any yielding substance; but we learn from numerous passages in the
Scriptures that the element must be water. Thus expanded, the meaning of
Saviour’s requirement, expressed in the simplest terms—the meaning of the
obligation which the laid upon his people—was this: “Make disciples of all the
nations, dipping them in water, into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Spirit.”

I enter no further into the question, already briefly considered, whether some
other action will answer as well as dipping, or whether the whole church, or any
part of it, would have the right and authority to change the only action in an
ordinance which her Lord commanded her to keep. These are serious and solemn
questions which she must answer for herself in view of her responsibility to
God. What she teaches on the subject, through her authorized and accredited
ministry, her converts will receive as baptism. As she along is active, while
they are passive, it could hardly be otherwise. Whatever errors may be committed
under such circumstances, we hand not doubt that the Righteous Judge will attach
the responsibility where it properly belongs; and we surely believe that the
unlearned and ignorant, who could not know his will, and who were obedient in
heart and intention, will not be punished with many stripes.

We may safely conclude, from all that has gone before, that what the Saviour
originally designed — disregarding here all questions of changes and of
authority for such changes — what he ordained, and required his Church to
observe, was the immersion of believers into the holy name of Father, Son and
Spirit.

We proceed, therefore, to consider next the place which this divine institution
fills as one of the elements or first principles of the gospel; for while it
might be taken for granted that it was ordained in the interest of the sinner,
it will be well for us if we can see in what way it responds to his condition,
and contributes to his spiritual comfort and salvation.

Let it be remembered, then, that we have traced his progress step by step up to
this point. We have seen that his feelings of alienation and enmity were
overcome by the preaching of the gospel, with its amazing demonstrations of
divine benevolence and love; that in consequence of believing this he became
deeply and painfully sensible of the sinfulness of his previous life of
unbelief; that under the influence of such feelings he repented towards God,
changed his mind and purpose, and resolved to seek him, and, if possible, to get
back into friendly relations with him; and that in the execution of this purpose
he came out publicly and confessed with his mouth the faith that was in his
heart, to wit, that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. Thus he is
brought before the face of his Father, humbly confessing his sin and shame, and
pleading for favor and forgiveness. We may know the heart of that Father, but as
yet he cannot. He must still feel that his own unworthiness will in some way be
taken into the account, and prevent his perfect restoration. His heart can only
say: “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more
worthy to be called thy son.” It is true he does not now suggest the servant’s
place, as he thought he would before he came, but still his conscience tells him
he has forfeited that of a son. And so, hesitating and trembling, he can but
stand and wait for the decision of his case. Nor has he to wait long. The Father
looks upon him with eyes of compassion. His full heart overflows with its love.
He speaks, but as yet not to the prodigal sinner, but to his servants—the his
Church: “Bring for the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand,
and shoes on his feet.” Do for him all that love itself can do, for he is my
son; he was dead and is alive again: he was lost, and is found.

And now, in obedience to this commandment, the Church, by her authorized
servant, takes the trembling sinner, whose condition the Great Teacher so
beautifully portrays, and leads him down into the water—going with him into
it—and there, amid the solemn hush of the world, and while the prayers of pious
hearts are going up like incense to God, she solemnly and authoritatively
baptizes him into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit
— and the work is done! Reconciliation is complete. The soul has come back to
God; nay, it has come into God, for it has come into his name, which is
himself—himself, truly, but not in the awfulness of his absolute Being, nor yet
as manifested in the lightnings and thunders of Sinai, but in his tri-personal
and most gracious manifestation as he is revealed in Christ.

It has been evident from the time the sinner was first brought to believe the
gospel, that what he consciously needed and most earnestly sought was to be
restored to proper relations with God. Every step in his progress, “from
darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God,” has had reference to
such restoration. The significance and value of baptism lie in the fact that it
is the final step in this progress—the end of the soul’s journey from darkness
to light. Here, where God has recorded his name, he meets with the lost sinner,
and blesses him—blesses him with the personal assurance that he is welcomed
back; that the past is all forgotten; and that the present is only joy and
rejoicing. Thus baptism, rightly administered to a properly prepared subject —
the baptism which is from God—is the consummation or final completion of the
process of conversion, where man is brought practically into right relations
with God; where he begins to live with him and for him in a “newness of live,”
in which his daily communion is with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ,
through the gracious aid of the ever-present and Holy Spirit.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 16: CHAPTER FOURTEEN:   THE RESULTS OF BAPTISM
========================================================================

The teaching of the Scriptures on the subject now to be considered is very
plain. In the early ages of the Church, when this teaching was simply accepted
and rested in as truth, there seems to have been no difficulty in perfectly
understanding it. The common people, as well as the more erudite and gifted,
were all of one mind respecting it. The Saviour and his apostles had distinctly,
and in quite unambiguous language, declared what were the results or
consequences of baptism, and during all the purest doctrinal period of the
Church’s history no serious question was raised. The matter had been settled by
authority, and nothing more was to be said.

But, unhappily, with the coming in of questions respecting the proper subjects
of baptism, it was impossible to avoid a corresponding consideration of its
objects. Whatever might be the consequents resulting to a penitent believer,
baptized upon his own voluntary profession of faith, it might well be doubted
whether the same consequents would or could result to a baptized infant. As the
infant was without volition or faith, without actual sin or repentance, men
could hardly fail to ask whether it was in such spiritual and mental condition
as made it possible for it to receive the peculiar blessings attributed to a
believer’s baptism. The ordinance did not seem to respond in the same way to
anything in the infant’s case. It satisfied no longing, it imparted no comfort,
it brought no joy; and so far from being the consummation of a spiritual
process, the final step in a progressive movement toward God, it was not even
the conscious beginning of such movement. It is not surprising, therefore, that
to many thoughtful persons the baptism of infants seemed to be revolutionary;
that it transposed and reversed all the settled meanings of the ordinance; or
else that it set these aside and substituted others for them. The inevitable
result was controversy, prolonged and earnest; and this in its progress led to
the introduction of metaphysical views upon the effects of baptism, some
contending that in and of itself it exerted a regenerative influence; that the
unconscious soul of the infant was quickened by baptism into spiritual life, and
made thus a child of God; consequently that it received, by anticipation the
titles to the whole baptismal estate which was in after years to be possessed
and enjoyed. Others, not venturing to pronounce definitely upon the direct and
immediate effect upon the spiritual name of the infant, and hesitating to
attribute a life-giving power to the ordinance, were content to rely upon it as
producing simply a change of relations — that it introduced the child into the
family and kingdom of God.

Those who opposed the above positions were not always discreet or wise. In many
cases their minds appear to have been confused and agitated. The doctrine of
baptismal regeneration seemed to them to be so seriously erroneous that to avoid
it and get as far as possible from any complication or fellowship with it, they
went to the opposite extreme, not only antagonizing baptismal regeneration, but
renouncing and disclaiming all those blessed effects which the Scriptures do
certainly and most clearly attribute to the baptism of believers. It came to be
regarded, therefore, as merely an outward and formal initiation into the Church;
to be scrupulously observed because it was commanded, but only because it was
commanded. The great reasons for Divine Love which led to the giving of the
commandment—reasons which are most clearly seen in the consequences which the
Scriptures attribute to baptism—these, if not overlooked, were sought for as
blessings through a different channel. It was even esteemed meritorious, and a
mark of the most perfect soundness of doctrine, to discount and depreciate the
ordinance in every respect except as a legal requirement. It was not “for the
remission of sins,” it was not an “ingrafting into Christ,” it was not a
“putting on of Christ,” it had nothing to do with “salvation.” All that was
really good in Christianity must be reached before coming to it.

Amid such a contrariety of views prevailing even now in religious society, I can
but feel that what I may say will be liable to misconstruction. And it will
certainly be misunderstood if it be viewed from any other angle than the one
which I myself occupy. Let me emphasize the fact, then, that the results which I
shall attribute to baptism appertain only to such a subject of the ordinance as
I have already, in previous chapters, so fully described.

As taught by our Lord when he instituted the ordinance, the objects which were
to be attained by its observance seem to be lift in no uncertainty. In part,
they are stated expressly in words of clearest import: “He that believeth and is
baptized shall be saved”; and if anyone after comparing the different versions
of the commission, can suppose that Luke’s “remission of sins” does not
contemplate the baptism distinctly mentioned in Matthew and Mark, he must at
least perceive that such remission is necessarily implied in the baptismal
formula. This involves, indeed, not only remission of sins, but every blessing
which the hungry soul hopes to find in God. He is the “Fount of every
blessing”—he, and not baptism, nor anything that we can do, nor any state of
mind into which we may enter. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” If,
therefore, there is any meaning in this baptismal formula; if it is not
altogether delusive; if what it plainly expresses is the truth, then it is
evident that in some sacred and most important sense the man who is truly
prepared for the ordinance is “baptized into Christ,” is baptized “into the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Now, if we can believe
that this is the simple truth—that the baptism of a proper subject actually
accomplishes this result—we can have no further trouble or mental disturbance
respecting it. We shall no longer realize the need of any nice distinctions and
learned criticisms to determine the exact meaning of the preposition in the
phrase “for the remission of sins” (Acts 2:38), because, if this blessing comes
from God, we shall know that it is to be found in him, and that it will be found
when we are introduced into him. No metaphysical exegesis can make us doubt this
evident truth; and no human conception of the ordinance, in whatever interest it
may be cherished, can make us believe that, as Christ gave it, there is really
no good in it. Surely we cannot be translated into the very fullness of the
Divine Love, and into the most sacred relations of the Divine Nature, and find
nothing in that Fountain and Source of “every good and perfect gift” — nothing
but the consciousness that we have complied with the terms of a mere external
formality. The subject is lifted above the plane of profitless logomachy, and of
doubtful interpretations, and becomes at once simplified and luminous, while all
the numerous declarations of the inspired Scriptures respecting it are accepted
in their plain and obvious sense as the very truth of God. When we read, for
example, such texts as the following:

“Repent and be baptized for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift
of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38).

“He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved” (Mark 16:16).

“Arise and be baptized and wash away they sins, calling upon the name of the
Lord” (Acts 22:16).

“Know ye not, that so many of you as were baptized into Jesus Christ, were
baptized into his death?” (Romans 6:3).

“As many of you as were baptized into Jesus Christ, have put on Christ”
(Galatians 3:27).

“Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed
away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

“Christ also loved the Church, and gave himself for it; that he might sanctify
and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word” (Ephesians 5:25-26).

“And ye are complete in him, who is the head of all principality and power; in
whom also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made without hands, in
putting off the body of the sins of he flesh by the circumcision of Christ;
buried with him in baptism, wherein also ye are risen with him through the faith
of the operation of God, who hath raised him from the dead” (Colossians
2:10-12).

“According to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and
renewing of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5).

“The like figure whereunto even baptism doth also now save us (not the putting
away of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience towards God)
by the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 3:21).

I say, when we read such texts as these, they are seen at once to harmonize with
the expectation produced by the baptismal formula, and we have only to accept
them with grateful hearts, and be satisfied. Surely no candid mind, free from
bias and prejudice, can red the above quoted Scriptures without perceiving that
the Holy Spirit recognized the very richest of spiritual blessings—remission of
sins, washing away of sins, newness of life, the gift of the Spirit,
sanctification, union with Christ, salvation—as being immediately consequent
upon baptism. And let us hope that the day has passed, or, at any rate, that it
is rapidly passing, when anyone can believe that these consequents are caused or
produced by baptism; that is, by any force or influence inhering in the act
itself. Baptism is but a step or passage-way leading on to the results—is but
the boundary line, beyond which lie the blessings. But being the last step, and
consequently the one which actually carries us across the boundary, men have no
unnaturally attributed to the step itself the virtues to which it brings us.
They have ascribed to the path the salutary efficacy of the Fountain to which it
leads, and have even claimed this efficacy for subjects which, from the very
nature of the case, were unable to drink of this Fountain. Others, antagonizing
this view, and seeing clearly that the step was not the source of the blessing,
have strongly insisted that there is no necessity to take the step.

All this confusion is avoided by simply recognizing the fact, so clearly implied
in Scripture, that the value of baptism is not to be estimated by anything in
the mere act itself, but by the object to which it introduces us. There is no
remission of sins, no pardon, no salvation, in baptism alone, however and to
whomever administered; if God be not in it, it is nothing more than an empty and
meaningless ceremony. But as he has appointed to meet with the returning sinner
in that ordinance, and then and there to receive him back into his favor and
fellowship, forgiving him for all the past, and strengthening him for all the
future, I do not see why it should be thought a thing incredible with anyone
that God should forgive the man’s sins, and do it in his own way! Of course the
baptism cannot was away sins, but Jesus Christ can do it in baptism, if we come
to it according to his own appointment, that we may surely find him there. He
sanctifies and cleanses by the bath of water by the word. Of his mercy he saved
us by the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit. It is all of
him, and that is the reason why we must be baptized into him, and thus put him
on.

We may not know the reasons moving the Divine Mind to appoint this particular
ordinance as the meeting place — the place where God and the repentant believer
actually come together, and where the reconciliation between them becomes a
practical fact; where they enter into new covenant relations — the one party
pledging forgiveness and mercy and everlasting love; and the other, faithful,
devoted and loving service; but we can readily understand that something of the
sort was needed to give comfort and assurance to the sinner; and to supply this
need, the Infinite Wisdom commanded to immerse him in water — into the Holy
Name. Without this, a man might think himself accepted and pardoned — for aught
I know he might be so; but to remove all his doubts and fears, and to give to
him individually the authoritative assurance demanded by his heart, God receives
him in this ordinance, and speaks to him, and owns him as his son. He clothes
him here with the robe of his love, the best robe; he kills for him the fatted
calf; he takes him into his own house and home and they live and feast and
rejoice together. Love’s redeeming work is done; God and man are reconciled.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 17: CHAPTER FIFTEEN:   THE WHOLE SUBJECT EXEMPLIFIED
========================================================================

I have sought to bring out, and to exhibit somewhat in detail, “the word of the
beginning of Christ,” or the elements of salvation as taught in the Great
Commission. No attempt has been made to treat the subject exhaustively. And if I
have succeeded in settling forth these First Principles distinctly, and in their
own clear light, showing their adaptation to the ends contemplated by them, and
their mode of operation in reaching those ends, I may well leave the reader to
survey, with more leisure and deeper thought, the whole ground which I have thus
outlined. Lest, however, any should still be disposed to question the
correctness of my interpretation of the commission, I deem it proper, before
proceeding to consider its closing requirement, to ask how the apostles and
primitive Christians understood it. Did their practice correspond in all
essential particulars with the views which I have enunciated? They went forth to
execute the very commission upon which I have been commenting, and what they did
and said in the performance of this duty is upon record; or, at any rate, such
specimens of their acts as were selected by the Holy Spirit is to be written for
our learning; and this record, consequently, will show how men who were
supernaturally preserved from mistake understood it. As, therefore, this
commission is the one under which we are acting, and the only one which
furnishes any divine authority for our action, the propriety of the above
inquiry is manifest.

I had occasion, while discussing the subject of “conviction,” to refer to the
Apostle Peter’s first discourse in Jerusalem, and to point out its immediate
effect. But the reader will do well to study all the occurrences of that day
with care. He will find that first of all the apostle preaches the gospel of
Christ; that in doing so he presents the two leading facts in his history—his
death and his resurrection; that he and his fellows apostles bear witness to
these facts, as does also the Holy Spirit; and that this testimony is confirmed
by showing its manifest agreement with the predictions of inspired prophets. It
will furthermore be seen that, as the result of all this, a great multitude of
his hearers were convicted of sin — a consciousness which could only have arisen
in consequence of believing what had been preached. It will be observed that
this effect was produced by the Holy Spirit, who was in the apostles, but not as
yet in the hearers; and that it was produced by means of the word of truth which
he spoke through the apostles—they serving as his organs for communications. So
far, all is plain matter-of-fact, and my statement of it is manifestly correct.
Its agreement, up to this point, with my previous argument is equally evident.
When the convicted sinners asked what they were to do — meaning, as a matter of
course, what they were to do to be saved, for they could have no other motive in
putting the question — the apostle tells them to repent and be baptized. The
only point which might here seem to diverge from my position is the fact that no
mention is made of the confession of faith, which, it will be remembered, I
located between repentance and baptism. But as such confession is elsewhere
clearly taught as one of the elements of salvation (see Romans 10:9), its mere
omission from the record in this place does not argue its absence in fact.
Indeed, faith itself is not mentioned here, though, of course, it is necessarily
implied. The confession is necessary, not only for the reasons stated in my
chapter upon it, but also to make known to the Church, the existence of faith
and repentance in him who makes it, thus giving evidence that he is a proper
subject for the ordinance. We may safely conclude, therefore, that the three
thousand confessed the Lord Jesus with the mouth, and thus made it manifest to
the apostles that they “gladly received” their word; and thereupon they were
baptized.

As to the results which were to follow this baptism, the apostle specifies only
two — “the remission of sins” and “the gift of the Holy Spirit.” But these two
involve and imply every good thing which Love itself could provide and impart.
If God gives himself, as personated by his Spirit, nothing else can be withheld;
if he receives the baptized into communion and fellowship and friendship with
himself—with himself as Father, Son and Spirit—he must receive him as pardoned,
justified, sanctified, reconciled, elected, redeemed, and saved. For surely from
the Divine Heart of love, for this boundless Store-house of grace, no real
blessing can be absent!

I neither say nor suppose that the returned sinner is able at once to
appropriate all this in conscious enjoyment. But these blessings are his. They
are freely given to him. And he takes hold of them little by little, and drinks
them in more and more, as he daily “grows in grace and in the knowledge of our
Lord Jesus Christ.”

It seems to me, therefore, that the first authoritative exemplification of the
true meaning of the commission is precisely in accord with the exposition which
I have sought to give of it. And it should be noted that, for the very reason
doubtless that it is the first, it is more elaborately detailed, and its
elements more specifically stated, than most others.

For instance, in the third chapter of Acts, Peter preaches to the people after
healing the lame man, substantially as he had done in the second—the same
gospel, the same Christ, the same facts, the same testimonies; but when he comes
to give them directions what they are to do to be saved (verse 19), he uses the
generic word “turn,” or “turn again,” where he had formerly used a specific. The
authorized version of this text is exceedingly inaccurate and misleading, and so
I quote it from the Revised Version: “Repent ye therefore, and turn again, that
your sins may be blotted out, that so there may comes seasons of refreshing from
the presence of the Lord.” It will be noted here that, as in the previous case,
instead of enjoining faith and telling them that they must exercise it, or seek
to procure it from Heaven as the direct gift of God, he simply goes to work, by
the direct presentation of testimonies, to produce it; and having done so, he is
satisfied with it. He requires nothing more in the way of faith, and nothing
different from this simple belief of the truth. It had risen normally and
naturally as the result of considering and weighing the testimonies—of hearing
the word of God. That was all there was to it; but that was enough. It was true
faith, for it accredited, believed and received what God taught. But if they
thus believed what he said, the apostle must instruct them in the duties and
privileges consequent upon such faith, and so he proceeds to say, “Repent ye
therefore, and turn again.”

Surely no reverent person can suppose that by the phrase “turn again” he means
to set aside any of the conditions of salvation mentioned in the commission, and
to substitute something else in their place. The supposition would do dishonor
to the apostle’s faithfulness, and discredit his authority. We must believe on
the contrary that, as he had not right, so he had no disposition to depart from
his Master’s instructions. Nor did he do so in fact. those addressed were not to
be deprived of the privilege of being “baptized into Christ.” If they did not
know, from being having heard the previous discourse, or having see the three
thousand baptized, or some of the numerous other instances exhibited every day
in the city (for “the Lord added to them day by day those that were being
saved”)—I say if they did not know that this specific act was involved in the
more general word “turn again,” we cannot doubt that he would have explained it
to them when they resolved to “turn.” Similar variations in mere phraseology are
usual with all speakers; and to candid hearers, seeking simply to know the
truth, they are neither misleading, nor of uncertain meaning. In this case the
very generality of the word “turn” would have led those who desired to obey it
to ask, if they not already know what it involved. The text, therefore, cannot
be understood to teach a different doctrine, but only the same doctrine in
different terms. As for the results or consequents of this “turning again”
these, too, are the same that were promised in the first discourse, but also
differently expressed. We have here “blotted out” instead of “remission” of
sins, and “seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord,” for “the gift
of the Holy Spirit.”

Other cases recorded in the Book of Acts exhibit slight variations in
phraseology, but the most notable feature is the omission from the record of now
one and now another of the essential elements of the saving truth. But we may
not conclude that these were absent in fact simply because in the summarized
report they are not mentioned in detail. For example: In the salvation of the
Samaritans (Acts 8:4-25) and of the Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8:26-39) nothing is
said of their repentance, nor, especially in case of the former, of confession;
and yet we must believe that they did repent, and that with the mouth they did
make confession unto salvation. In the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, the only
element expressly recorded is his baptism; but how truly each of the others was
present is evidenced by the genuineness and thoroughness of the change wrought
in him. It is obvious to remark that in his case there was an immediate and
supernatural visitation, wholly exceptional in its character, which puts it to
this extent outside the sphere of our present investigation. But it will be
observed that, notwithstanding the miraculous appearance to him of the glorified
Lord, he had still to comply with the terms of the commission, in order to wash
away his sins (Acts 22:16).

The case of Cornelius (Acts 10:21-48) was also, for reasons which are obvious,
exceptional in several particulars, especially in the angelic visitation, and in
the outpouring of the Holy Spirit before his baptism. This was God’s way of
signifying to Peter, not that Cornelius did not need baptism, but that, Gentile
though he was, it was not to be withheld from him. And who was Peter that he
should withstand God? Again we see that, notwithstanding the miraculous
visitation, the commission must still be observed; nay, in this case the
miraculous gift was bestowed only that it might be observed.

Yet once more: In Antioch the preachers “spake unto the Greeks, preaching the
Lord Jesus. And the hand of the Lord was with them: and a great number that
believed turned unto the Lord” (Acts 11:21). It will be remembered that in the
third chapter the hearers were told to “repent and turn,” and here they are
reported to have “believed and turned.” In the case of Lydia, “whose heart the
Lord opened, to give heed to the things spoken by Paul,” it is immediately
added: “And when she was baptized, and her household, she besought us, saying,
If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord come into my house, and abide
there” (Acts 16:14-15). The conversion of the jailer, reported in the same
chapter, shows (1) that Paul told him to believe; (2) that he spake the word of
the Lord to him, with all that were in his house, that they might believe; and
(3) that he was baptized, he and all his, immediately. Of Crispus, the ruler of
the synagogue in Corinth, we are told, in the historical account, only of his
belief, that “he believed in the Lord with all his house;” and yet, in the
epistle to the Corinthians, the apostle makes known that he himself baptized him
(see I. Cor. 1: 14). We thus learn that, though the fact was not reported in
detail, his case did not differ from that of the others, of whom we are told
that “many of the Corinthians hearing, believed, and were baptized” (Acts 18:8).

And so we learn the principle that prevailed in recording the numerous examples
of conversion; that the writer did not deem it necessary to give a tabulated
statement in every individual case of the elements of salvation which were
present and operative; that he sometimes generalizes them by using terms that
involve them; and that in mentioning only one or more of these elements we are
to understand, not the exclusion, but the implication of the others. All this is
so obviously true, and so entirely free from even a shade of difficulty, to any
honest and unbiased inquirer who is simply seeking to ascertain what God’s word
really teaches, that however the facts stated may have been abused in the
interest of party, I need not dwell longer upon them. Suffice it to say that the
inspired record furnishes abundant and conclusive evidence that the apostles and
primitive Christians understood the commission in the plan and ordinary sense of
its terms, substantially as I have presented it. And although they might upon
occasion vary the expression of them, and although one or more might be omitted
here or there in the reports of cases—as something well understood and to be
taken for granted—still we cannot doubt that in very deed they uniformly
inculcated and observed each and all of those First Principles of the gospel
which constituted then, as they do now, the germ and essence of the Christian
religion.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 18: CHAPTER SIXTEEN:   PRACTICAL TEACHING
========================================================================

I trust it has been made sufficiently manifest that the man who cordially and
practically accepts the elementary principles of the gospel is led by them into
new and blessed relations with God. He becomes a member of his Church, a subject
of his kingdom, a child in his family. Old things are passed away, and behold,
all things have become new. Of course he must needs enter upon this new life and
into these new relations without any experience to guide him. Everything is
strange and unusual, and he is very ignorant. He knows not what to do. He
realizes that for the mercy extended him he is under weighty and solemn
obligations, but he cannot ell how he is to discharge those obligations. He
would fain walk consistently with the profession which he has made, and the
covenant into which he has entered, but the way Is not clear before him, and it
seems beset with difficulty. It is not easy for any to lead a Christian life in
an un-Christian world, and especially for one who has but just renounced that
world.

To meet this condition, and furnish help here where it is most needed, the
Saviour directs his apostles—and of course also the Church—first of all to
instruct those made disciples by them, “teaching them to observe all things
whatsoever I commanded you.” Of course the word means, primarily, to impart
knowledge, to give information; and for the young disciple this is felt to be
the most pressing need. But in the connection in which it occurs above, it seems
also to imply the idea of training—teaching them not only what I commanded you,
but to observe it, and how to observe it. And this is a very large lesson; it is
“all things whatsoever I commanded you.” The whole of the epistolary writings,
as well as the word of Christ in the gospels, may be regarded as bearing upon
this part of the commission, and as showing the length and breadth of a clause
which covers the whole Christian life, and all Christian lives. I can take no
part here the element of “training,” if such be involved, as I think, in the
word “teaching.” It is to be done chiefly by example and close personal contact;
by the manifestation of friendly interest, and by the stimulus of judicious
encouragement and timely assistance. But in the matter of primary religious
instruction, I may hope to contribute a few suggestions that shall serve as a
fitting conclusion to the present series.

To one, then, who has complied with the conditions of salvation as “first
principles,” and who has just entered upon the life into which they have
introduced him, I make these friendly recommendations:

1. Try to realize the new relations into which you have entered. Your baptism,
preceded as it was by those preparations so clearly taught in the Scriptures,
has brought you in fact into fellowship with the personal God. He has become to
you in truth a loving and gracious Father, whose redeeming and merciful Son is
your Elder Brother, and whose sanctifying Spirit is your ever-present Helper and
Comforter. But do not be disturbed if you fail to realize in your own heart a
consciousness of the divine presence. God is very wise, as well as very
gracious, and he will not permit you to lose yourself even in him. What you need
is not the excitement of over-wrought feeling, but the firm recognition and
assured belief of the divinely attested fact. God is to you all that I have
said; and what I mean by realizing is, is for you to accept and appropriate to
yourself, and rest in, this truth as an undoubted certainty. Thus it will enter
more and more into your daily life, and will gradually mold your character and
sweeten your experience, until you come to think of him always a being near and
gracious, as being in you, and over you, and for you.

2. Recognize heartily and fully the obligations of the new life. As a Christian,
redeemed by the Lord, you belong to him: “You are not your own, you are bought
with a price.” In coming to him, and voluntarily entering into his kingdom, you
have acknowledged his right to reign over you and in you, and that it is your
duty to do and to be what he requires. Now let the sense of this obligation rest
upon you. Keep it in mind and in heart, and resolve to accept it and to act upon
it without any mental reservation whatever. All the sweetness of the Christian
life, if not indeed its acceptability, will be lost by half-heartedness. It is
only what we bravely, cheerfully and without reserve recognize and take hold of
the duties incumbent upon us that the performance of them is pleasant and
profitable. But when we do, the “yoke is easy” indeed, and the “burden is
light.”

3. Find rest for your soul. You do not wish to live, and you do not need to
live, a disturbed, agitated, doubtful sort of life. Seek, and you shall find
that restful, peaceful state which is troubled by no fears as to your present
acceptance or future salvation. It is found only in Christ. “Come unto me,” he
says, ”and you shall find rest.” The man that is faithfully and lovingly trying
to do his duty, however short he may come of the perfect standard, may and
should repose his soul upon God in humble but confident trust; and in doing so,
the very peace of God, which passeth all understanding, will be given to him.

4. Study to learn what the Lord will have you to do. The apostle, in one of
those beautiful summaries of truth, of which we have so many examples in his
epistles, presents this subject in a way that may well give direction to our
studies. He says; “For the grace of God hath appeared, bringing salvation to all
men, instructing us, to the intent that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts,
we should live soberly and righteously and godly in this present world.” Let us
pause here for a little while and notice in detail what is embraced in this
divine instruction.

(a)Our duties to ourselves. These begin with self-denial. The Saviour had taught
this lesson long before: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself.”
We cannot read such passages with recognizing that there is something in our
human nature which powerfully incites us to go astray—something which causes
evil and wrong to seem attractive and desirable. They are not repulsive to us.
We are not shocked at the thought of them, but on the contrary we feel drawn
towards them. We clothe them with qualities which do not belong to them, and
then we say that they are good for us—things to be desired, and properly
desired. Thus we are tempted, and the very self enters into the temptation. We
are drawn away by our own lust and enticed. It hence becomes necessary for a man
to recognize an authority above himself, and to obey it, even when its voice is
contrary to the inclinations of self. This is self-denial — the refusal to
gratify the desire for the pleasures of ungodliness and worldly lusts, however
strong that desire, and however urgent and pressing the solicitation. Whatever,
therefore, is wrong in itself—wrong as judged by the perfect standard of right
which has been given us; whatever is injurious to our higher interest, whether
it be essentially wrong or not; and whatever excess even in necessary things
would be hurtful—these mark and define the boundaries within which we must
carefully keep ourselves. This course is further indicated by saying that we
should “live soberly”; that is with masterful self-control. The higher nature,
the spiritual part of our being, is to take the lower in hand, bring it into
subjection and hold it down. It must be kept under. This, of course, will
require great watchfulness, and the enthronement in the heart of lofty
principles. And thus, though it will not be easy, by the help of God it will be
possible to “stand in the evil day.”

(b)Our duties to others. The Scriptures represent these obligations as debts —
debts which are to be discharged, because the creditors, though they man not
know it, have a right to the payment of them. Hence, in the text before us, this
class of duties is indicated by the phrase “live righteously.” Of course the
term “righteously” means more than this, involving as it does, all the elements
of upright and irreproachable personal character and conduct, but it certainly
includes love and duty to the neighbor as among the essential of such character.
If the apostle felt himself to be “debtor” to all men, it was only because he
had received from God light and truth and blessings which all men needed, and
which he, who is “no respecter of persons,” had given to him for the benefit of
all men. If God loves our neighbors as he loves us, we are to love them as we
love ourselves. As, therefore, we have opportunity, we are to do good unto all
men; and we are to owe no man anything but love, which from its very nature is
the one debt that can never be fully paid.

(c) Our duties to God. Of course all that we do from high religious motives,
whether the acts terminate immediately upon ourselves or others, has reference
to God, and honors him. We do it for his sake; do it in obedience to him, and
because we believe and love him. But apart from these there are many things
which look and point directly to him, such as adoration, praise, worship,
thanksgiving — involving that whole circle of thoughts and feelings which bring
us in communion with him. In a word, to “live godly” is to walk and work and
“endure, as seeing him who is invisible.”

But I cannot pretend, in one brief chapter, to cover the ground embraced by the
New Life. Suffice it to say that from the first breath upon earth to its final
clarification in Heaven, we are unable, by our own wisdom and strength, to
perform any of its duties, or to appreciate and improve nay of its privileges;
and therefore, we must daily look and pray to Him, for who all blessings flow.
There is no such possibility as leading a Christian life without prayer to God
and loving communion with him. We need him every hour — in joy and grief, in
plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, at home and abroad, in the world
and in the Church—he is our refuge and strength, our protector and guide, our
life and salvation. Let us pray to him without ceasing, and in everything give
thanks.

Such, in brief, is the new life into which we are introduced by our baptism of
faith and repentance. it may lead us through struggle and trial, sometimes into
clouds and darkness, and we may go down into deep waters, but he will be with
us; and beyond — beyond the river’s brink, it brings us to everlasting life and
everlasting love!


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 19: PERFECTION
========================================================================

Chapter One: Newness Of Life Chapter Two: The Goal Chapter Three: The Law Within
Chapter Four: Letter And Spirit Chapter Five: The Higher Law Chapter Six: Seeing
The Invisible Chapter Seven: Night Songs Chapter Eight: The Everyday Life
Chapter Nine: Spiritual Declension Chapter Ten: A Reckoning Chapter Eleven:
Sanctification Chapter Twelve: Sanctification Progressive Chapter Thirteen:
Peace Chapter Fourteen: Drawing Near Chapter Fifteen: Behold The Perfect Man


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 20: CHAPTER ONE:   NEWNESS OF LIFE
========================================================================

The elementary principles of the gospel of Christ comprehend whatever is
involved in that change of state and relations known as conversion. They embrace
the whole process, from the beginning to the final putting on of Christ in
baptism. And now the apostle teaches (Romans 6:4) that we are raised up from
this baptism to walk in newness of life. Much has been said — perhaps most of it
with but little practical utility — respecting the precise state in the
antecedent process in which this life was generated, and exactly what influence
produced the result, and in what way it operated. It is certainly interesting to
think upon these points and to compare the various Scriptures relating to them;
but unless some obstructive error makes it necessary to discuss them, it will be
quite sufficient for us to know that at the end of the elementary process we
first begin to “walk in newness of life.” Whether the grand result was brought
to pass by the Holy Spirit, by the gospel of Christ, by Christian baptism, or by
the concurrence of them all, together with the responsive cooperation of him who
was the subject of the change, are questions whose consideration here is not
demanded. Suffice it to say, that whoever has cordially and practically embraced
the first principles of the gospel, and who has come thus into fellowship with
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, is a “new creature; old things are
passed away; behold all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

And now, how to make the most of this new life which we have acquired; how to
develop and mature it, notwithstanding its union with our animal nature, and its
exposure to trials and dangers; in short, how we may, in spite of obstacles and
difficulties, go on to perfection—this is the subject upon which I hope to be
able to prepare a number of articles, which I trust may be helpful to earnest
and aspiring Christians. The subordinate subjects to be considered under the
leading title will not in general have any logical sequence or dependence, but
each will be complete in itself, and will be presented as an aspect or element
of the main theme. I cannot, of course, say whether I shall be able to handle
the subject to the satisfaction of those who are seeking “a closer walk with
God”; and the only assurance which I can give in advance is that for many years
my best thoughts and feelings have lingered lovingly around it.

It will be helpful to us, let me say in the beginning, to give emphasis in our
reflections to the newness of this life. It is somewhat difficult fully to
realize this, from the fact that we are living in the same old world, in the
same homes, mingling with the same people, engaged in the same callings, and in
many respects we find ourselves the same. We have the same natural wants and
animal passions that we had before. Our individuality has not been set aside—we
feel that we are the same persons, and we are. And yet with all this old, which
necessarily remains with us, there is something essentially new. Perhaps in
every case the first thing of this sort which is present to our consciousness is
a certain peculiar feeling, which we may call joy, or peace, or gladness. It is
that sweet serenity and comfort of mind which results from the assurance of
forgiveness and acceptance with God. It is what the hymn calls “The new-born joy
of sins forgiven.” And certainly anyone who has experienced the effect of that
work of the Spirit which is called conviction of sin; who has realized that he
was alienated from God; that he was dead and lost; and who, filled with godly
sorrow, has turned with penitent confession and humble submission to his Father,
must rejoice to find how cordially he was welcomed back, and how freely and
fully he was pardoned.

Then, of course, the relations which the converted sinner sustains to Christ are
radically new. He has put him on; has become a member of his body; his loyal,
loving and devoted subject. He has voluntarily enlisted in his service, and has
consecrated to him all his powers of mind and heart, of soul and body.

He has, too, entered into new relations with the people of God. They have become
his brethren, and are to be treated with all brotherly kindness and helpful
sympathy. They may be weak and frail and fallible; may have their faults and
shortcomings; may be poor and ignorant and rude; but whatever they are, and
whatever they do, he still feels a brother’s interest in them, and he sits down
to the table and eats and drinks with them, and with Christ.

It will be well, also, for him to realize that his relations to the world have
been changed. While he is still in it, he is not of it, and is no longer to be
conformed to it. For wise purposes of discipline and development, the heavenly
Father leaves his children to struggle against the spirit and temper of the
world—to live exposed to its temptations and allurements—in order to cultivate
in them a truer and manlier virtue than would otherwise be possible. At the same
time he warns against its dangers, especially teaching that our hearts are not
to be given to it, and assuring us that if we are born of him we shall be able
by his grace to overcome it. This, of course, will require much thoughtful care
and watchfulness, and must self-denial and prayer

In short, the dominant purpose, the whole end and aim of a Christian’s
existence, is radically new. He is in a new kingdom, a new world, under a new
government. He has turned round. The very direction in which his life moves is
changed. He has begun to struggle upward, which is Godward; and he feels that
the deep meaning of his existence, here is the wonderful complexity of
Providence and grace, of tribulation and trial, and blessed help, is that he may
attain unto the heights to which God has called him, that he may become ennobled
and sanctified here, and glorified hereafter.

Having considered thus the newness of it, we should bear in mind at the same
time that it is life—life from God. Nay, it is eternal life, germinal as yet and
undeveloped, but still with attributes of divine life. “He that believeth on the
Son hath everlasting life” (John 3:36; John 5:24). This results from the fact
that we are God’s children—begotten of God; born again, and from above; born of
water and of the Spirit. Our conversation was no merely outward conformity to a
prescription; it was a coming to God, who is the Source of all life; it was the
acceptance from him of the gift of his Spirit to dwell in our hearts; it was the
entrance into the Lord Jesus Christ, “who is our life”; and so we came into
fellowship and communion with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Truly
this is “newness of life.”

And now, in concluding this preliminary chapter in which we are outlines, but in
no very definite way, the course that we are to pursue, let us call up before us
the duty and privilege of walking in this new life. This is one of the terms
used in the Bible to express a predetermined and continuous course of conduct.
It implies that we are going somewhere, and that we are taking the necessary
steps to land us there. Elsewhere it is called a “journey,” a “Pilgrimage.” We
are to recognize the fact that we are only passing through the world; that we do
not live here; that it is not home; and that if we settle down and identify
ourselves with it, we shall fail to reach our true destination. Our watchword
must be “Onward, ever onward!”

Walking seems to be a favorite figure with the apostles, and they have connected
with it many wholesome instructions. For example:

“We walk by faith, not by sight.”

“We are his workmanship, created in Jesus Christ unto good works, which God hath
before ordained that we should walk in them.”

“I beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called.”

“Brethren, mark them that walk so as ye have us for an example.”

“That ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing.”

“That ye may walk honestly towards them that are without.”

“I rejoiced greatly that I found of thy children walking in truth, as we have
received a commandment from the Father.”

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”

And so we might quote “walk in love,” “walk in Christ,” “walk in wisdom toward
them that are without,” and numerous others; but the foregoing will suffice to
show us what the Holy Spirit would have us understand by “walking in newness of
life.” It means that we are to walk in faith, in good works, in truth, in love,
in honesty and wisdom, in the light, in Christ. Such a walk will be worthy of
our high calling, and will conduct us on, step by step, towards perfection.

This is the ideal Christian life. We are not likely to realize it all at once.
We may sometimes blunder and stumble and fall; but, by the grace of God, we get
up and try again. Our very failures, when we are honestly endeavoring to do
right, will help us to better success afterwards. They will disclose to us the
weak places of our character; they will make us more watchful and guardful; and
especially will they lead and call us to look unto Him who is the Source of all
strength and help, and to cry, not simply in the music of song, but in the
sweeter melody of the heart;

Nearer, my God to thee;

Nearer to thee!


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  CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER TWO:   THE GOAL
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I rejoice to believe that there are many who, like myself, are dissatisfied with
their present attainments, and who would fain realize their own ideals of mature
and lofty Christian character. It speaks well for our ministers and church
officials that they have excited a desire so deep-seated and widespread to
become and to accomplish all that the Great Teacher and Helper has made
possible.

From the general title which I have given to these chapters, it will be seen
that the object contemplated is Perfection. And while we can but feel that this
goal is far distant, that the journey to it is long and difficult — aye, and
hazardous, too — still we may find comfort and encouragement in the other terms
of our title—Going on. We are not expected to be perfect in the beginning of our
Christian career, nor yet in the second, nor the third, nor perhaps in any
subsequent stage of it; it will suffice if we are moving forward, always in that
direction—going on to, that is, towards perfection. And I must think that our
heavenly Father bestows special honor upon us in calling and inciting us to aim
at this, and to strive and labor for it, with good hope of ultimate success. It
shows that he has made us capable of becoming very great and noble, of reaching
even the highest glory, and of living with all lofty intelligences, and with
himself in friendship and fellowship forever. But “he knoweth our frame; he
remembereth that we are dust”; and I am persuaded that he requires of us only
the earnest and patient effort, without expecting anything beyond our ability.
Many of my readers may be capable of being and doing very much more than I, and
yet I feel sure that he will be satisfied with me if I do my little best. They
may seem to be, and really may be, much nearer the goal than I; and yet if I
keep faithfully plodding on, with sure and well directed steps, though slow, I
shall as certainly gain the prize as those who appear to be outstripping me in
the race.

The term perfection, it should be remarked, when predicated of human beings, is
used in a relative sense. We cannot in this world be developed into complete
likeness; and even when we get to Heaven, and enter consciously into fellowship
with the great company of the “spirits of just men made perfect,” we shall all
be different—no two of us, I presume, will be alike—and yet we shall all be
perfect. Moses and Elijah, on the mount of transfiguration, were readily
distinguished from each other; but both “appeared in glory.” Indeed, I am glad
to think that Heaven is not peopled by person all of whom have been cast in the
same mould, even though it be a perfect mould. The apostle’s aim was to “present
every man perfect in Christ Jesus”—every man, with all his individuality, and
even it may be his idiosyncrasies, but still every man perfect.

This consideration, if duly weighed, should yield abundant encouragement. We
look around upon holy men and women in our acquaintance, who have developed
elements of character that we greatly admire, and which, alas! seem beyond our
attainment, and we feel like saying: “If that is necessary to perfection, we
shall never reach it, and may as well give over.” But has it occurred to us that
what was necessary to their perfection may not be necessary to ours? We have,
perhaps, only two talents, and they had five to start with. It was meet that
with more they should do more than we. God has not made many Florence
Nightingales or Frances Willard’s, but he has put myriads of blessed women into
the sweet homes of this earth, every one of whom can be as perfect in her sphere
as these her more distinguished sisters, and every one of whom may be greeted at
last with as cordial a “Well done, good and faithful servant.” We all start out
in this life different; and very soon this difference is magnified. In temper,
in taste, in capacity, in opportunity, we are individualized. In many
respects—nay, in most respects—we are necessarily alone in this vast universe.
Even those most intimately associated have their reserves, their sacred arena,
their uncommunicated selfhood. And now the object which the heavenly Father sets
before us is for every man to make the best of his individual self. We cannot be
Pauls or Johns. No human being could now be a Luther, or an Alexander Campbell.
A reduplication of these characters is not needed by the world or the Church.
What is wanted, and this is possible, is for every man, whatever his sphere in
life, whatever his gifts or graces, whatever his peculiarities in disposition or
circumstance, to make the best of himself that he can. In doing this, he wil not
be like anybody else—his character will not be an imitation nor a sham, but an
honest development of all the good that God put into him; and so he will come
forth at last, and live to all eternity in his own grand and distinctive
individuality — a perfect man in Christ Jesus.

This fact that God has made no two of us alike, and that, consequently, our
proper development cannot result in sameness, is important in its bearings upon
Christian freedom. The failure to consider this has often led even good men into
very serious mistakes. Their own religious clothes, if I may so say, fit them so
nicely and well, and they feel so easy and comfortable in them, they conclude
that they have found exactly the right pattern for all clothes. And not only so,
but they are also quite sure that if this is the right pattern, any variation
from it is wrong; and so they insist upon arraying the tall and the short, the
fat and the lean, the bit and the little, in garments of precisely the same cut!
To the extent of their success in this well-meant but foolish design, the result
is grotesque and ludicrous. Men and women appear in habiliments which are
fearfully and wonderfully made—habiliments which, in nearly all cases, are too
tight or too loose, too long or too short, which sit awry and hang badly; and
however excellent the material, they are positively ugly, simply because they do
not fit the person upon whom they are imposed, and who are forced to wear them.

It is needless to say that, of course, there is one great model of moral
character to which every one must seek to conform his life. If we have habits,
tastes, inclinations, tendencies which are contrary to the perfect standard of
right, we may not plead the existence of these things as an excuse for their
indulgence. They simply show that we have gone astray—that we are out of the
right road; and every step which we may take in this direction is a step away
from perfection, rather than towards it. We may as well set down as an
indubitable fact that we shall never reach our true goal without the most
sedulous care and the most diligent watchfulness. There is much within us that
calls for correction — strong passions which must be bridled and subdued;
unlawful desires which plead powerfully for indulgence; habits of heedlessness,
of hastiness of speech, of impatience, and of uncharitable judgments. And then
there is that large catalogue of Christian virtues and graces which are to be
nourished and brought to maturity. But the what and the how as to many of these
things will be considered more in extenso as we proceed. My special purpose at
present is to encourage all who earnestly desire to perfect themselves in grace
and goodness, by the assurance that their object is attainable, not in the sense
of absolute, but in that of relative perfection. I feel sure that every one who
deliberately and steadily sets his head and heart to it, and who is wiling to
use the means and to make the sacrifices demanded by such an object, can attain
to a full, well develop, well rounded, and thoroughly established Christian
character, which I suppose is what is meant by the phrase, “The stature of a
perfect man in Christ Jesus.” Though he may never in this world, owing to the
weakness and frailty of his earthly nature, and to the unfriendliness of his
environment, reach the goal of absolute sinlessness, he can feel and realize
that in his heart, he is really devoted to all that is true and beautiful and
good, while Hebrews 10 loathes and hates every mean and evil way. Such a man may
fill a very humble sphere in this life; he may be ignorant of the world’s
knowledge, and pass his days in poverty and obscurity; but if he has attained to
a truly rounded character, if his affections are centered in Christ, and his
whole life completely circled about him, his perfection is equal to that of the
greatest and noblest and best. A small circle is as perfect as a large one.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 22: CHAPTER THREE:   THE LAW WITHIN
========================================================================

The predictions concerning the new covenant recorded in Jeremiah 31:31-34, is so
important in its bearings upon the object which we have in view that, although
the passage is very familiar, I beg to quote it in full:

“Behold the days come, saith the Lord, that I will make a new covenant with the
house of Israel, and with the house of Judah; not according to the covenant
which I made with their fathers in the day that I took them by the hand to bring
them out of the land of Egypt; which my covenant they brake, although I was an
husband unto them, saith the Lord; but this shall be the covenant that I will
make with the house of Israel: After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my
law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God,
and they shall be my people. And they shall teach no more every man his
neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord; for they shall all
know me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the Lord; for I
will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”

Every clause of this prophecy is worthy of serious meditation, and if it were
germain to our immediate purpose, the whole prediction might be profitably
analyzed and discussed. I have introduced it here, however, mainly to call
attention to its leading promise: “I will put my law in their inward parts, and
write it in their hearts.” This is one of those “better promises” mentioned by
the author of Hebrews when he says of Christ that “he is the mediator of a
better covenant, which was established upon better promises” given unto
us—promises which enable us to be “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter
1:4). In view, therefore, of the heights to which this covenant is designed to
lead us, we are not surprised to find it spoken of not as a modification or
emendation of the old, but in contrast with it. It is new; it is not “according”
to the old; it is not like it; it is essentially and radically different. And
the root of this difference—that out of which the other differentiae spring and
grow—is the fact, already stated, that the law of the Lord is put in the inward
parts, and written in the heart. We are to understand, consequently, that this
is contemplated as one of the distinctive peculiarities and essential
characteristics of the Christian religion. It may and must, as a matter of
course, have its externals. In order to its propagation and conservation, it
must be exhibited and maintained as an institution, having all needful organs,
forms and ceremonies. The revelation of God’s law and truth was also wisely
given us, first of all, in an outward and visible form. He did not choose to
fill us immediately with his divine light, thus making us a law unto ourselves;
he provided rather for our growth — that we should gradually attain unto the
statue of perfect men in Christ Jesus. It is probable that angels, owing to the
excellency of their character, and the perfection of their relations to God, may
receive from him directly a fullness of knowledge of which we can have no
adequate conception. But for creatures such as we are, imperfect, weak and
sinful, and subject to daily trials and manifold temptations, our educational
and disciplinary wants require something different. It was the Evil One who
tempted our first parents to seek immediate knowledge — to “become as gods,
knowing good and evil;” but it is far better for us to reach the heights of
attainable knowledge through faith—faith in a distinct and outward Divine
Person, and in his audible and written communications. Thus is maintained that
feeling of dependence so appropriate to our low estate and condition, while
little by little we grow into godlikeness. This, as I understand it, is the
underlying, or, rather, the pervading principle of that new covenant promise
which we now have in mind. It does not mean, I suppose, that we can ever in this
life cut loose from the outward letter and become independent of it; we are to
study it; to meditate upon it; to drink it in; and so to transfer it more and
more from the outer form to the inner life, and thus to change it, so to speak,
from “letter” into “spirit.”

It will be perceived, therefore, that, in thinking of the fulfillment of this
“better promise,” we should by no means entertain a mechanical conception of it.
What the Lord does in the case is not a transaction, but a process; not
something done and completed once for all, but a continuing and progressive
work. The divine will and the revealed truth are gradually instilled by him more
and more into our heart, as we become better and better prepared to receive
them. The heart is the proper place for his word, and it is there that he is
seeking to “put” it and to “write” it; but the heart is the center of spiritual
life, and his work, therefore, can proceed only in harmony with our own living
processes as manifested successive stage of development and growth. It was not
by accident, therefore, that the apostle conjoined the growth in grace and in
knowledge. The two will always be in proportion and concurrence.

I beg only to add that the final completion of the process which God is carrying
on within us, and always with our cooperation, will be that very “perfection”
towards which, I trust, we are all actively moving. When the new covenant
promise shall have been fulfilled in us — when God’s gracious purpose shall have
been thoroughly accomplished — we shall need nothing more. In heart and life and
purpose we shall be at one with him; the very fountain of our being will be pure
and good, and we shall “stand perfect and fully assured in all the will of God”
(Colossians 4:12).

I have consumed so much time in seeking to excite the reader’s interest on the
subject, and to set forth its supreme and vital importance, that I have not
reserved to myself sufficient space in which to discuss, with proper
discrimination and care, certain practical phases and details, which in any case
would merit a separate chapter. Postponing, therefore, the consideration of
these, it will suffice here to invoke the reader’s own calm and thoughtful
meditation upon the whole subject. And let me say that it would be well for us
to realize that we are here on holy ground; that we are drawing very near to
God; that we are entering into the very secret of his counsels, and becoming
acquainted with his purpose. Let us remember also that these purposes have
reference to us, and that he is seeking to accomplish them in us and for us. We
are parties to this Great Covenant, and it cannot be executed without us. We
must concur and cooperate with God; and in order to do this we must seek to
understand his purpose, and to appreciate its deep significance and vast
importance. But if our hearts and sympathies are right—if we really desire to
please him, and to be co-workers with him— we may confidently rely, whatever our
shortcomings, upon his long suffering patience; for he is slow to anger, and
plenteous in mercy


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 23: CHAPTER FOUR:   LETTER AND SPIRIT
========================================================================

If my purpose extended no further than the development of a good moral
character, I should not deem it necessary to dwell upon a subject which, though
not essentially difficult, is of course less simple in its nature than would be
the statement and illustration of mere precepts. But I earnestly desire to lead
my readers and to bring myself into a better appreciation and fuller enjoyment
of the true Christian life. And hence I venture to hope that those who are
disposed to go with me will be willing to linger yet longer upon a subject which
lies at the very foundation of all genuine progress.

It is familiar to every one how earnestly and constantly the Saviour labored to
inculcate and enforce the very truth which we are seeking to realize. His
contemporaries, with hardly an exception, had lost sight of it; and even his
chosen apostles, brought up as they had been under the influence of mere
externalism, were exceedingly dull of hearing and slow to understand. But,
happily for us, the very grossness of messianic hopes and expectation which he
encountered led the Great Teacher to a fullness of deliverance and a wealth of
illustration which make our studies comparatively easy.

“The kingdom of heaven,” he says, “cometh not with observation.”It is not an
outward and visible thing. It does not consist of forms and ceremonies. These
may gather about it, and may have more or less intimate and important connect
with it, but they are not the thing itself. The true, vital, heavenly kingdom“is
within you.” Its territory is the soul; its throne is the heart; and there its
King lives and rules and reigns.

Again, he says that this kingdom is “like leaven which a woman took and hid in
three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened.” Now it matters not what
view we may take of the merely circumstantial phrases of this instructive
parable. We may or may not attribute special significance to such words as
“woman,” “took,” or “three measures,” but in any case the essential meaning
cannot be mistaken. The vital and vitalizing principle, represented by the term
“leaven,” is hidden away out of sight in the human heart; and it works there in
secret. At once this suggests to us the new covenant: “I will put my law in
their inward parts, and write it in their hearts.”

In like manner, the parable of the sower, that of the mustard see, and the
others relating to seeds and sowings, all proclaim this same truth. And surely
no one can read the Sermon on the Mount with perceiving how Christ glorifies the
law by lifting it out of the rigidity of mere letter, and presenting it as a
free and living principle. Nay, his own commandments come to us not as fixed and
inflexible precepts, to be observed in simple punctilio, but rather as blessed
and luminous instructions, addressed to the spirit of love, which is open and
waiting to receive them. Here, as elsewhere, he opened his mouth and taught
them. He was the great Teacher sent from God. And this is the characterizing
idea of the whole New Testament; it is above all things else a book of religious
and spiritual instruction. Its lessons may be exhibited in mandatory and
prohibitory forms among others, but still for the true Christian they are simply
lessons. He is not under law; his life is not to be regulated by rule and
measure. The kingdom of Heaven, which is within him, is not a matter of
prescriptions; it is righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit.

When the apostle presents, as he does in his masterly way, the contrast between
the two covenants or “testaments,” what he says is worthy of careful notice. Let
me quote his language from the Revised Version: “But our sufficiency is from
God; who also made us sufficient as ministers of a new covenant; not of the
letter, but of the spirit; for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.
But if the ministration of death, written and engraved on stones, came with
glory, so that the children of Israel could not look steadfastly upon the face
of Moses for the glory of his face; which glory was passing away: how shall not
rather the ministration of the spirit be with glory?” (2 Corinthians 3:6-8).

Now it should be observed that the apostle does not limit the application of the
term “letter” to the ten commandments engraven on stones, though he illustrates
his meaning by such references: for in truth the whole of Moses law and ritual
was letter. Nor should we understand that the covenant of spirit is confined to
New Testament commandments. On the contrary, it embraces every line and word in
the whole Book. It is all of the spirit—every commandment, precept, prohibition,
injunction is to be kept in its principle and spirit, and not necessarily in its
letter. Very often, to be sure, the letter and the spirit will coincide, but not
always. For example, the spirit of the commandment addressed by the Saviour to
the rich young man is deeply instructive and most important; its letter,
regarded as a general precept, would be unwise and really impracticable. We can
hardly conceive of a proceeding more injurious to highest interests of the
Church and of society than for all Christians to sell what they have and give it
to the poor. But how prone we are to rest in mere words! Many persons read the
passage lately quoted, “not of the letter, but of the spirit;” make a careless
application of it to the ten commandments; declare, of course, that the new
covenant is not of letter, because the apostle says so, and immediately proceed
to convert it all into letter, and to put themselves, and try to put everybody
else, under it as letter! But in truth the same apostles teaches us that “we
should serve in newness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter” (Romans
7:6). There is no limitation nor exception here. The whole round of duties, the
entire range of obligation, whatever is embraced in our Christian service—all of
it is to be, positively, in newness of spirit, and negatively, not in the
oldness of the letter. We read that the Jews were “under tutors and governors”
until the fullness of time, and were in bondage under the elements of the world
till Christ redeemed them, that they might receive the adoption of sons. But the
apostle does not speak of his tutorship and governorship and this bondage as
something to be desired, but as something from which it was a mercy to be
rescued. Still, for those of my readers who may be as yet only “babes in
Christ,” a little kindly “tutoring” and “governing” may be very helpful. The
restraining and guiding influence of experience and wise pastors and of other
able and discreet Christians, is needful for the young and immature and should
be yielded to with cheerfulness and gratitude. But surely those who are of full
age, and whose senses have been exercised to discern both good and evil; those
who have been brought into loving sympathy with God, and into cordial devotion
to his will, should be able to “serve” him “in newness of spirit.” Such can but
feel that the rules and regulations, the demands and prescriptions of legalizers
and literalists—assuming to control and direct the details of their conduct—are
an impertinence and a hindrance; that they fetter the freedom of the soul, and
interfere with its normal expansion and religious comfort. There is no joy and
no good in constrained service.

I trust it will not be overlooked that I am writing for those who are
Christians; not for hypocrites, nor formalists, nor cold, carnal, worldly
“professors”—nor yet for mere moralists who expect to get to Heaven by
observances, and who have not taken heed to “beware of the leaven of the
Pharisees”; who think, perchance, that the absence of a gold chain will commend
them to God, and that sin lieth at the door of costly apparel. Some of these
characters may need a medicine which it is not my purpose to administer. My
single aim and object is to aid those who are seeking to develop their true
religious life; those who love God and his people and his word, and who are
really and heartily seeking and trying to be right and to do right. Such persons
may be safely turned loose with God. He is enthroned in their hearts, and his
law is armed and cherished in their inward parts. They do not need rules; they
are principled against wrong, and in favor of the right; and principles make
their own rules. But we do need—we all need—instruction in divine things; more
of heavenly light, more of experimental knowledge, a deeper insight into God’s
character, and a deeper consecration to his service.


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  CHAPTER 24: CHAPTER FIVE:   THE HIGHER LAW
========================================================================

The apostle, after saying to Timothy, “As I exhorted thee to tarry at Ephesus,
when I was going into Macedonia, that thou mightest charge certain men not teach
a different doctrine, neither to give heed to fables and endless genealogies,
the which minister questionings, rather than a dispensation of God which is in
faith,” immediately adds: “But the end of the charge is love out of a pure heart
and a good conscience and faith unfeigned; from which things some having swerved
have turned aside unto vain talking; desiring to be teachers of the law, though
they understand neither what they say, nor whereof they confidently affirm. But
we know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully, as knowing this, that
the law is not made for a righteous man, but for the lawless and unruly, for the
ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane.”

The whole of this instructive text is so helpful to us in view of the object we
are seeking to gain, that I could not refrain from quoting it, though the
immediate purpose with which I turned to the passage was to call attention to
“the end of the charge.” It seems that certain men in Ephesus had turned aside
to “vain talking,” and were teaching a doctrine essentially different from that
taught by the apostle. They were giving undue prominence and ascribing
unwarranted influence to the law, considered merely as law; and the evident
implication is that they were attributing salutary virtue to it. No doubt they
were insisting that good men must come under the law, or they could not be
saved, showing thus a radical misapplication of the true meaning and object of
the Christian religion. Now in order to enable Timothy to combat this error, the
apostle reminds him that the essence of the whole matter of salvation, and which
was, therefore, to be the end and object aimed at his “charge,” is “love out of
a pure heart, and a good conscience and faith unfeigned.”

And this, my beloved readers, is to be our objective point; it is to reach that
state and condition of heart and life in which the external law does not apply
to us. It is not made for a righteous man. God did not design it for good
people, but for bad; “for the lawless and unruly, for the ungodly and sinners,
for the unholy and profane.” These are under it, subject to its control, its
restraints, its limitations, its bondage; but the true Christian is free from
it, not because the law, which is holy, just and good, is set aside with
reference to him, but because he has risen above it and gone beyond it. He has
been lifted into the divine region of love, which cannot be measured by law. No
statutory enactment can prescribe its course or define its action. It overflows
all the embankments of mere rule, and moves by the power of its own fullness,
and its own spontaneous and living impulses. Or, to use a different image, it is
a well of water in the heart, a divine fountain springing up of its own accord
unto everlasting life. To one who feels in his soul the stirring and swelling
influence of such a principle as this, how cold and dry and dead, how jejune and
tasteless is mere law! And how we sympathize with Paul when he says that those
who desire to be teachers of the law “understand neither what they say, nor
whereof they confidently affirm.”

I trust my considerate readers will pardon me for lingering so long upon the
essential principles and characteristics of spiritual life before proceeding, as
I hope to do after awhile, to consider the means and processes of growth. For
myself I feel that what I am now attempting to do is the most essential part of
my work. If we can but be sure of having the living fountain within us, the
stream will in a large measure take care of itself. It may need the removal of
an obstruction here and there, and perhaps some little leading in order to guide
its course through the greenest fields and the richest pastures; but in any case
it will be sure to flow towards the great ocean of love from which it came.

I am the more inclined to the course which I am taking, because there seems to
be a sort of proclivity in us — at any rate the tendency is widespread, and very
hard to overcome—to substitute morality for life and law for love. We wonder
sometimes that the members of certain religious communions submit so
uncomplainingly to be governed by “rules” and “Disciplines;” but really it is
just what men desire. It is a relief to them to have their conduct prescribed;
to be told in measured letter what they shall eat, and when they shall fast, and
where they shall go, and how they shall worship. Peter exhibited something of
this same feeling when he said: “Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me,
and I forgive him? until seven times? Jesus said unto him, I say not unto thee,
Until seven times; but, Until seventy times seven.”

Peter felt that he would be quite willing to conform to any definitely measured
requirement. Only give him the exact rule, and he would be careful to come up to
it. He was not the man who would go back upon the letter of a commandment. “Just
say how often,” such is the spirit of his question, “and I will forgive him that
many times; but after that, let him look out! The next time he sins against me,
I will settle up the old score along with the new!” In other words, Peter did
not really contemplate the forgiving of his brother; what he meant was simply
the refraining from taking vengeance upon him. But how his Master undermines his
worthless legalism! Not until seven times, but until seventy times seven—that
is, always. The very spirit of forgiveness is to be in you; and you are to act
it out as from yourself, without reference to any definite law. And then he
utters the parable of the two debtors, which concludes with the lesson that we
are from the heart to forgive every one his trespasses. Not some people and some
trespasses, but every man and every trespass. Nothing could more forcibly
express the difference between “letter” and “spirit;” between a rule imposed
from without, and the law of God written in the heart, and obeyed from the
heart.

Has it ever occurred to the reader to consider what this is called God’s law? We
usually understand that it is simply because he reveals and proclaims it, or
because it is he who requires us to keep it. But while this is one aspect of the
truth, may there not be a deeper meaning in it? I feel strongly inclined to the
belief that it is his law, because it is that which he himself observes. I do
not mean, of course, that the details of it in its necessary adjustments to our
earthly life and human relations are applicable to him, or predicable of him;
but the true essence of it; that from which all these details flow as from a
fountain; that upon which they all depend, and which alone can secure their
proper observance — this law of true and holy life — this principle of love,
which, after all, is the one and only law—this is his divine attribute and his
eternal characteristic.

When we read, therefore, that all the law and the prophets, that is to say, all
revelation, hangs upon the law of love; when we read that love is the fulfilling
of the law, and that every one who lives is born of God, and knoweth God, for
God is love—we begin to realize the blessedness that must spring from the
keeping of this law, and keeping it as only it can be kept, from the heart. It
makes and marks us the children of God. It fills us with all his fullness. It
brings us into sweet communion and fellowship with him. Our hearts respond to
his, and beat in sympathy with all that he feels.

The importance of conduct is not in itself so much as in what it means. There is
no inherent value in our mere doings. They are but signs of what we are. If we
do the right things with the right motive, and in the right spirit, well and
good. We shall be rewarded not for the things done, but for the heart that
prompted the doing of them. It is we who are judged according to our deeds. They
declare and show our inward state and character. If we are pure and holy and
good, if we are sincere and guileless, if we really and heartily love God and
our fellow-men — all this will necessarily express itself in corresponding
conduct. But, alas, we may ape this conduct; we may substitute it for those
inner traits of which it should be the true exponent; we may simulate a virtue
which we do not possess, and impose upon ourselves and our brethren by
exhibiting the galvanic contortions of death in place of the spontaneous
movements of life. We have listened to many sermons — many excellent sermons —
on “What must I do to be saved?” To those who are out of Christ, and seeking to
find him, these discourses are appropriate and necessary. But for Christians—for
those who have done the things that made them Christians—there is another, a
more absorbing and momentous subject: “What must I be to be saved?”


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 25: CHAPTER SIX:   SEEING THE INVISIBLE
========================================================================

If I have not signally failed in my efforts thus far, it has been made
sufficiently evident that the man who is what he ought to be will not need to be
lashed into the performance of his duty. The things which please God are the
very one which please him. If in the real core of his heart he is honest and
truthful and upright; if in his very soul he is merciful, forgiving,
compassionate and tender; if he sincerely loves all that is good and pure and
Christlike, he will not have to be driven and dragooned into a course of life
corresponding to such a character. It will flow spontaneously out of him.

And yet he may need to be led onward, and encouraged to attempt greater things.
Brotherly counsel and sympathy, scriptural instruction and godly example will
all be helpful to him. He may be brought to a higher appreciation of his
privileges, and to a heartier realization of his sacred and blessed relations to
God. He may be shown, perhaps, with greater clearness that he has hitherto seen
it, how conduct reacts upon character, and promotes its development. And
certainly we can all assist one another in the study and improvement of the
great volume of God’s Providence — a book which he makes the companion of his
word, and the commentary upon it. Though deeply sensible of my unfitness to
treat these lofty issues as they should be treated, I can at least fix the
attention of my readers upon some of them, and this of itself will be a source
of profit and blessing to them.

The terms of the title which I have given to this chapter, if understood in
their strictly literal sense, would be incongruous. It is, of course, impossible
actually to see the invisible. And yet the word “see” is sometimes used in the
Scriptures to signify the “view” which the soul may take of that which, with the
natural eye, cannot be seen. For example, the apostle speaks of ”looking at the
things which are not seen” (2 Corinthians 4:18) that he literally saw God, we
are told that “he endured as seeing him who is invisible.” In like manner the
patriarchs are declared to have seen the promises afar off (Hebrews 11:13); and
Abraham rejoiced to see Christ’s day, “and he saw it, and was glad” (John 8:56).

In that passage (Job 19:26-27), which seems to be difficult to translate, we
read in the Revised Version, as modified by the American revisers: “And after my
skin, even this body is destroyed, then without my flesh shall I see God; whim
I, even I, shall see on my side, and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a
stranger.” Here the figure of seeing with the soul alone, “without the body,” is
vivified by the use of the “eyes.” Finally we come to the beatitude: “Blessed
are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” But while this is in the future
tense, like the assurance expressed by Job, and seems to point for its
realization to the future state, I do not think that the blessedness of this
vision is wholly postponed till we reach the heavenly world. Whatever the state
or condition into which we may hereafter be changed or introduced, I doubt
whether it will ever be possible for us to see the Infinite Spirit in any sense
essentially different from that in which we may now see him. We may hope to
breathe this Spirit in deeper inspirations, to come into more intimate communion
with him, and better to understand his character and his ways; but I suppose
that we shall never literally see him, save in the person of Christ, who is “the
image of the Invisible God.” “We now see *him+ in a mirror, darkly; but then
face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12). And this vision, imperfect and indistinct
as it is, exerts a transforming influence upon us, and tends to make us more and
more like him upon whom we look. This is expressly taught in 2 Corinthians 3:18
: “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the
Lord, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, even as from the
Lord the Spirit.” If we are thus gradually changing and growing into the
likeness of Christ, who is himself, it will be remembered, the image of God, we
are certainly going on to perfection, and our hearts may well be filled and
animated by the hope of finally reaching this goal. But the consummation as well
as the progress, the fruition as well as the hope, is connected with seeing: “We
know that, if he shall be manifested, we shall be like him; for we shall see him
as he is. And every one that hath this hope set on him, purifieth himself, even
as he is pure” (1 John 3:2-3).

Of course now, while we are compassed with the flesh, and our minds disturbed
and distracted by so many worldly objects, we can see only “as in a mirror,” and
the view is necessarily dark,” that is, enigmatical, mysterious. Reflected
objects are not exhibited in their true relations, either to us or to each
other. They consequently suggest problems or riddles, for the full solution of
which we must wait till we reach the direct vision of the world to come. But
even as it is with us here and now, with our clouded intellect and imperfect
sight, we can still perceive that what we gaze upon with our inner eye is
“glory” — the “glory of the Lord.”

And let me ask, What is the glory of the Lord, but his character? His several
attributes which constitute all that we know or can know of him, such as love,
mercy, goodness, wisdom, power—these are his glory; and while we contemplate
these, meditating upon them and striving to appreciate them as qualities of
inestimable worth and value—as being in fact the only good—we find ourselves
little by little becoming weaned from meaner things, and changed into these more
excellent and divine characteristics—“transformed into the same image from glory
to glory.” This means, I suppose, from the glory of God which we behold, to our
own glory, and also from one degree of this to another. It indicates our
progress upward and Godward. We are very little and imperfect; we are sometimes
hardly able to stand; and we feel that we cannot move. We are often sorely
tried; the world, the flesh, and the devil tempt us to give over, and we are
liable to become discouraged. At such times how blessed it is to reflect that if
we can do nothing more, if we are unable to walk or even to stand, we can at
least sit down, or, better still, kneel down, and look; and by looking be
transformed into the divine image. It is certainly no ordinary provision—no
common privilege—that enable us to acquire strength and courage, and light and
peace, and joy and love, just by seeing Him who is invisible. We talk at great
deal about faith and trust, and this is well. We cannot say too much upon these
important subjects, if only we are careful to understand them aright. But we
should remember that they are not abstractions. Faith is not a thing which has
inherent virtue, or any saving efficacy in and of itself. Nor is trust a mere
theological term to be lauded as having some mysterious worth of its own, nor
yet a something for the mere possession of which God will reward us. Important
and valuable as they are, their worth is wholly instrumental. They server to
bring us into communion with the Invisible. They are the eyes, so to speak, with
which the soul looks upon God, and by thus looking brings the glory of the Lord
into itself. And its because we so frequently use the words faith and trust by
themselves, as though they were things apart—as though they were meritorious per
se—that I have chosen to express their dependent relation by the phrase, “Seeing
the Invisible.” Mere “faith,” as a simple state of mind, or as a sort of
conscious feeling, or what some may call an “experience,” is really of no value,
and properly speaking, is not faith. Nothing is worthy of this name which does
not bring us into connection with the Divine Being, and which does not
constitute a channel through which his gracious and saving influence may flow
into the soul. What we need is not faith simply, but faith in God. And there is
nothing fraught with richer blessings to the soul, nothing that can better
sustain and uphold us amid the trials and afflictions life, than the ability to
realize that God is lovingly near us; that he is watching over us for good, and
leading us onward. The Lord said to Moses, and no doubt the promise is
applicable to every one of us: “My Presence shall go with thee.” If we could but
habituate ourselves to something like a consciousness of this “presence”—whether
we call it feeling, or seeing, or believing, or trusting—if it could have for us
a reality comparable to some sense-perception, as with

The poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, and hears him in the
wind;

In our frailty and weakness we should daily look away from ourselves; we should
cease to fear, for we should know that “by the power of God we were guarded
through faith unto the salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” And
thus we could take home to ourselves the other promise to Moses: “My presence
shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest.”


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 26: CHAPTER SEVEN:   NIGHT SONGS
========================================================================

The apostle tells us that “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.” It
follows, therefore, that if we live near to him; if we daily walk with the
assured conviction that we are in his immediate presence, and with a faith that
looks to him and sees him, we shall always “walk in the light, as he is in the
light;” or, as they hymn expresses it, we shall “walk in the light of God.” I
think it would be well if we could impress upon our minds and hearts some of the
lessons of Holy Scripture which may tend to confirm us in the belief of this
truth. I suppose it was from deep person experience, as well as from direct
inspiration, that David said: “The Lord is my light and my salvation.” And how
cheeringly does Isaiah utter the rich promise that “thy sun shall no more go
down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine
everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended” (Isaiah 60:20).
It will be noted, too, that all that I have hitherto said upon the importance of
spiritual life, and of the maintenance of vital connection with its Source, is
more than suggested by what the apostle teaching concerning Christ: “In him was
life, and the life was the light of men” (John 1:4). This doctrine of the
identification of our light with Christ’s life is mentioned here merely for the
reader’s serious meditation, as the elaboration of a subject so profound would
lead us away from our immediate purpose. There is a sense in which his coming
into the world enlightens every man (John 1:9), but Christians are especially
illuminated. They are “all the children of light” (1 Thessalonians 5:5). They
“are called out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). And this
expresses precisely the point with which I introduced this subject. We are near
to God. His glorious face shines upon us. He has “lifted up the light of his
countenance upon us,” and has put gladness into our hearts.

But not only is it our privilege to “see” him thus by faith; we may also hear
his voice. It comes us in no thunder tones. It is neither loud nor startling. It
is so “still” and “small” that we must needs listen for it if we would catch its
whispered lessons, and be enlightened by its luminous directions. If we could
realize that in all the instructions, encouragements, admonitions, comforts,
promises which are applicable to us in the Scriptures, God is really present and
speaking them to us now, the words would come to us with a vividness and a
living power which, in our casual and careless reading, we too often miss. It is
one thing to perceive that they were once uttered, and quite another to feel
that they are, to all intents and purposes, being uttered now. And it is
doubtless for this reason, because God is present with it and in it, that his
word is “living and powerful.” To my mind there is something inexpressibly sweet
in the thought, or, rather, in the assured conviction that our heavenly Father
has not simply given us the record of what he said to distant people ages ago,
but that he is really speaking every day to us, addressing words of comfort to
our hearts, and of light to our understanding. When, therefore, the troubles of
life assail us, when we are perplexed and cast down, when we are tempted and
tried, and fell almost like giving over, it will be a blessing to us if we can
get away from the noise and turmoil of the world, and hear a still small voice
speaking not simply to the ancient Hebrews through Isaiah, but to our own
troubled hearts, saying: “Fear not, for I have redeemed thee: I have called thee
by they name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be
with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou
walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame
kindle upon thee” (Isaiah 43:1-3).

But when I call attention thus to these exceeding great distinctions and honors
— to the light of God shining into our hearts and upon our pathway; to his
assured and certain presence with us, never leaving nor forsaking us; to his
gracious and almighty protection and support, let it be understood that I am
speaking of the fact, rather than the experience, of what is really true,
however we may fail to realize it. For very few, perhaps none, of even the best
of Christians can be said to pass their days in unclouded sunshine and in
unqualified happiness. God may be to us in every deed all that I have said—near
and gracious, and pouring out his heart of love upon us—and still, owing to our
fleshly nature, and to the perverting and blinding influences connected with our
secular life, we may fail to see and realize all this, and may even be brought
to feel that he is far away from us. We have seasons of depression. We come into
a cold, prayerless, unjoyous spirit. The ways of God in his dealings with us are
mysterious and inexplicable, and we sometimes think that his hand is very heavy
for a loving Father’s hand! And then doubts supervene. Is he a loving Father?
And if he is, are we indeed his children? Surely something is wrong. Either we
do not sustain to him the relation that we had fondly supposed, or else his is
not the character that we had believed and in which we had trusted. Oh, it is a
dreadful thing to get down into this “slough of despond!” — to feel that God has
forsaken us; that it is in vain to serve him; that he hears, he heeds, he pities
us no more. The wicked flourish like a green by tree; the men of the world seem
to bask in his smiles; their lives are crowned with blessing; they have more
than heart could wish; and with it all they appear to be gay and bright and
joyous, while we are left to struggle with adversity, and to taste the bitter
cup of disappointment, affliction and sorrow. He even takes from us our best
beloved, and he leaves us to endure our calamities and griefs in loneliness and
desolation of soul.

If any of my readers has ever experienced some such feeling as this, let him not
suppose for a moment that his case is exceptional. Alas! to all of us the night
cometh. For some reason — and I am now quite sure that it is a benevolent reason
— God sometimes hides his face from us. Clouds arise over our lives. Our sun
goes down. Gloomy shadows come creeping across our pathway. We cry to him in our
distress, but it grows darker and darker. And now we cannot see our way. We are
“walking in darkness, and have no light.”

But shall we give over? Shall we abandon God because in his own wise love he is
leading us down into vales of darkness in order to conduct us to greater heights
and brighter joys beyond? Shall we imagine that we are not his children, and not
accepted by him, because he chastens and corrects us? Surely we did not become
Christians in order to make money; to secure uninterrupted worldly prosperity;
to enjoy and immunity from the ills and sorrows of life, but to become perfect
as God is perfect; and to this end to yield ourselves to his guidance and
discipline in the full assurance of faith.

The instruction given by the prophet seems to cover the whole case: “Who is
among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that
walketh in darkness, and hath no light? let him trust in the name of the Lord,
and stay upon his God” (Isaiah 50:10). Translating this language into our
dispensation, it is evident that he that “feareth the Lord, and obeyeth the
voice of his servant,” the Christ, is a Christian. He need have no doubt as to
his standing and relation. He is a child of God, beloved, and watched over, and
cared for. And if it be so that for a time he “walketh in darkness and hath no
light,” this should not be thought a reason for distrusting God’s favorable
disposition, or his own acceptance with him. On the contrary, he is to feel that
these clouds and this darkness are round about the very throne of God; and that,
in being led into the darkness, he is really coming closer to God. While,
therefore, the outward light is shut out, it should only, like Milton’s
blindness, intensify the brightness of the spiritual vision. It is now that God
is indeed specially near, a very present help in time of trouble. These
occasions, therefore, are calls to us not to walk, and not to try to walk, by
sight, but by faith. When a Christian is in darkness and hath no light, he still
has one blessed resource—he can ”trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon
his God.”

And surely, if we can believe that our troubles, afflictions and sorrows are
neither accidents nor judgments, but chastisements, giving evidences of truest
love on God’s part, and assurances that he regards us as his children, we shall
not only submit to them, but we shall find in them sources of richest blessing,
and occasions for thanksgiving and praise. For though he may lead us into the
darkness, he also giveth to his beloved songs in the night.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 27: CHAPTER EIGHT:   THE EVERYDAY LIFE
========================================================================

In making our pilgrimage through the world, all of us, whatever our state or
condition, come to extraordinary emergencies, and have special occasions of
trial and difficulty. These, however, are comparatively few. It is only once in
a while that the daily routine of existence is broken up; for in general the
current of life flows onward, if not without shoals and obstructions, still with
no great disturbance. To-day is very much like yesterday and the day before; and
perhaps for many weeks there has been but little in our experience outside of
the ordinary round of commonplace duties and pleasures. Every night we lie down
and sleep, and every morning we go to our regular business, domestic,
commercial, professional, or whatever it is; and while there may never be a day
in which we do not encounter more or less of trial—something calculated to annoy
and worry us, some demand upon our patience, some need to control our tempers
and our tongues, the great trials come but seldom, and are, therefore, properly
called extraordinary.

It is remarkable that in general we bear these latter with more fortitude, and
with the exhibition of a truer Christian spirit, than we do the former. We seem
to summon up or latent powers, and to bring forward our reserved forces so as
successfully to meet an unusual emergency. The extraordinary occasion arouses us
to extraordinary effort; we become watchful over ourselves; we begin to examine
our hearts and lives, and we pray with unwonted fervency. We draw in our
thoughts and affections from the world; we lose our interest in it; our eye
becomes single, and so our whole body is full of light. Thus in the perilous
sickness of ourselves or our families, in the darkness and sorrow of a broken
household, in the overwhelming calamity of flood or flame, the very necessities
of the case, and our own utter helplessness, bring us close to God, the Source
of all strength, and we are borne safely through the crisis, and carried forward
once more into the ordinary life.

The great apostle to the Gentiles barely mentions the more serious events of his
history. Stonings, imprisonments, shipwrecks, scourgings, for these and such
like he is always fully prepared. He expects them; he has secured the grace of
fortitude and of patience that he may properly bear them; he even welcomes them,
and rejoices in them. And when the great crisis of life is impending, when he is
about to be “offered,” he looks forward to his martyrdom with serene
composure—nay, he barely glances at it, while he fixes his gaze upon the “crown
of life” which is just beyond, and which fills his soul with rapture. Compared
with “the exceeding and external weight of glory” into which he was so soon to
enter, no earthly affliction, however heavy and prolonged, could seem other than
light and momentary.

Thus was he completely armed and armored with respect to the more dreadful and
perilous conflicts of life. None of these things moved him. But when it came to
the little “thorn in the flesh,” the difference in his feeling and behavior is
noteworthy. He was not ready for it. It came as a surprise. He was amply able to
meet and bear larger troubles; his mental and spiritual preparation for these
was abundant; but he seems not to have deemed it necessary to provide himself
with grace to endure so small a thing as a thorn! We do not know what this
“thorn” was, but we do know that it was comparatively very insignificant—like a
splinter in the finger, painful, but not serious, distracting to the attention,
but not dangerous. And we can but notice that, until he was better instructed,
he was unwilling to bear it. He besought the Lord thrice, not for strength to
endure it, but that it might be taken away from him.

No doubt his experience with this thing was very much like ours in similar
cases. We can meet a formidable adversary. We are willing to “take up arms
against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them.” There is something manly
and heroic in this; something worthy of our attention and our effort; something,
too, by which we can manifest our trust in God, that his “grace is sufficient”
for these things. But a grain of sand in the shoe, a cinder in the eye, a thorn
in the flesh—these are mere irritations, annoyances, things which fret and
worry, without seeming to be serious enough to call for divine grace, and the
bringing into action of Christian virtues. If a child is prostrated with typhoid
fever, the mother gives up everything for it, and does it cheerfully and as a
matter of course. Day in and day out, during many long and anxious weeks, she
devotes herself exclusively to the little sufferer, and does it with a patience
and a fortitude that are well nigh inexhaustible. It is an emergency, a great
and serious occasion, and it brings out all the best traits of her character,
while she seeks and obtains special grace from Heaven that she may be able to
hold out in the performance of her task of love. But this same woman, so sweetly
meek, so admirably patient, so trustfully devoted in the presence of this
extraordinary and great occasion, may be very different when subjected to the
test of the little troubles and irritations of the every-day life. She may
exhibit more impatience over the breaking a plate, or the burning of a biscuit,
or the soiling of a garment, or the carelessness of a servant, than she
manifested during the whole weary period in which the typhoid fever was running
its course.

But we are prone to make not only the exercise and development of the passive
virtues depend upon the extraordinary, the same is true in large measure of the
active. If a grand movement is to be set on foot and urged forward; if a great
moral or religious reformation is to be brought about; if some momentous
interest, some supremely important cause, is to be supported, we rise with the
emergency and become equal to it. We enter with spirit and enthusiasm upon the
great and unusual enterprise, and devote to its accomplishment all our best
thoughts and powers. Thus the active virtues, zeal, enterprise, liberality,
diligence, and whatever else terminates upon that which is external to us, are
enlisted and brought into exercise, and by exercise that are developed. But what
if the feebler calls of the daily life, the fainter appeals which the constantly
recurring, and therefore ordinary circumstances of our existence — what if these
be disregarded?

Alas, what progress shall we make towards perfection if we go forward only on
great occasions, and under the influence of that which is exception, and of
comparatively rare occurrence? The missionary cause comes before us in the form
of active solicitation only two or three times a year; and it is but seldom that
we are called upon to build churches, to endow colleges, to institute
reformations, or “to do some great thing.” Mercifully, too, the more serious
trials and afflictions of life come to us generally after long intervals. But
the little ones — the little opportunities for doing good, and the little
accidents and incidents of domestic and business life; the word that tends to
rouse the temper, and to provoke retaliation; the slight that manifests
unfriendliness; the advantage take of us in a trade; the gossip that would make
us forget the law of love; the worries everywhere and always connected with
servants and children and housekeeping—these and such as these enter into the
very warp and woof of every-day life. We cannot avoid them if we would; we need
not if we could. Properly understood, they are not evils, save as we make them
such. Like the thorn in Paul’s flesh, they have their good design. They furnish
the means by which we can exercise ourselves unto godliness, by which we can
bring into action, and thus into development, qualities and virtues which would
else become atrophied and impotent.

As, therefore, the providences which daily surround us, whether of joy or grief,
of ease or pain, of encouragement or provocation, of sickness or health, of
success or disappointment, are wisely and lovingly sent, let us wisely and
lovingly improve them. It is not approbation of the words love, patience,
gentleness, sweetness, fidelity, nor yet the endorsement of the doctrine of
Scripture respecting them, that constitutes our progress, but it is to be what
they represent; and for this we need the very circumstances in which God has
placed us.


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  CHAPTER 28: CHAPTER NINE:   SPIRITUAL DECLENSION
========================================================================

If we were all the time making progress towards perfection, even though we were
moving at no very rapid pace, our advancement would be notable and encouraging.
But, unfortunately, with most of us there are periods of decline. We go
backward, and lose ground. the Fervency of our zeal is abated. Like the
Ephesians, we leave our first love. It is not meant that we abandon our
religion; that we give up or hope of eternal life; that we lose all relish for
spiritual enjoyments. The probability is that in the state of mind indicated we
shall still regularly, or at any rate, frequently, attend upon the services of
the Lord’s house, and even take part in them. We shall experience a degree of
pleasure at any unusual successes in the Church, and shall be glad to read
evidences of the prosperity of the “cause,” for we have not cut loose from it;
we have not gone back into the world; we still claim to be, and I trust we are,
Christians. At the same time there is a manifest abatement and cooling down of
our spirituality. Little by little, other interests have taken possession of our
hearts, and have come to engross most of our time and our thoughts. These other
interests may all be legitimate objects of attention, and many of them even
necessary. We must be diligent in business; it is right and proper for us to
pursue our several callings — to cultivate the farm, to harvest the crop, to
market the surplus, to provide comforts and even luxuries for the family; and in
like manner the merchant must needs be wide awake, well-posted as to the state
of the markets, and closely attentive to all the details of his business,
whether of buying or selling or managing. Similar remarks might be made of every
profession and avocation. They all make and properly make, large demands upon
us—demands which it is right for us to honor, provided we can do so without
sacrificing higher interests, and ignoring more important claims.

But just here lies the danger. It is all well enough to be “diligent in
business,” if one is able also, and at the same time, to be “fervent in spirit,
serving the Lord.” I have known a few such persons—men whose religion seemed to
be carried into their pursuits — who never forgot its claims, nor made them
secondary, but who appeared to grow in grace, in humility, in generosity, in
gratitude, in zeal for God and the cause of humanity — in proportion as the Lord
prospered them in the worldly things. But I have known many more in whom the
cares of this life and the deceitfulness of riches, springing up like thorns in
their spiritual gardens have choked the word, and they have become unfruitful.

The times in which we live are fraught with special peril for this source. The
spirit of contentment with such things as we have seems to have taken its flight
from the world. Men are no longer satisfied with a modest and frugal living, the
fruit of honest and daily toil; they desire to be rich, and not even this in any
reasonable measure or degree, but immensely rich, far beyond any possible use
that they can make of their wealth, or any comfort which they or their families
can derive from it. It has become a passion with them, so engrossing and
absorbing as to leave little, or no interest in their hearts for the true riches
which God will give to those who are worthy to receive them. We should,
therefore, be on our guard. “They that desire to be rich fall into temptation
and a snare and many foolish and hurtful lusts, such as drown men in destruction
and perdition. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil: which some
reaching after have been led astray from the faith, and have pierced themselves
through with many sorrows” (1 Timothy 6:9-10). Some of the peculiar “sorrows” or
evils growing out of this root are intimated in the seventeenth and eighteenth
verses of this same chapter: “Charge them that are rich in this present world,
that they be not high-minded, nor have their hope set on the uncertainty of
riches, but on God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good,
that they be rich in good works, that they be ready to distribute, willing to
communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the
time to come, that they may lay hold on the life which is life indeed.”

This, then, is on source of spiritual declension—the love of money for itself,
for the gratification of the evil passions of pride and vanity and vulgar
display which it may bring. We may fancy—I fear very many do fancy—that it is
possible to serve God and mammon, but it is not!

I shall not undertake to mention all the various influences which tend to draw
us away from “the chief concern of mortals here below,” but there is one other
which seems to call for special notice. I allude to what we are wont in brief to
call “Society,” with its round of pleasures, amusements and pastimes, its petty
jealousies and rivalries, and its cold and uncharitable, not to say cruel,
criticisms. It is the spirit that pervades and dominates this social circle,
which constitutes the evil and danger of its influence. Really good society,
even if it were not strictly religious in tone—if it were simply of exalted
character—would be stimulating to the higher nature, and in many respects
helpful to spiritual progress. But the low gossip of the newly enriched, their
vulgar parade and display, their braggadocio and hollow pretension, their want
of sympathy for all that is noble and good, not to say their skepticism of its
existence—these are elements which enter largely into our modern social life.
Now, of course, a matured Christian of fixed principles and fixed heart can
mingle in even such society without serious detriment; but there are very many
who come forth from the ordeal with distinct and unmistakable spiritual loss.
They have caught something of the godless and pernicious spirit which they have
been breathing. Their tone is lowered. There taste for pure and the good is
blunted. A careful examination will reveal to them that they have gone backward
and downward. I need not mention partisan politics, which ever and anon becomes
so dominant in its influence as to lead men away from all interest in the
Church, and even sometimes away from truth and honor and God.

It is a trite observation and a true one that we cannot stand still. If we are
not moving forward we are going backward. It matters not what the cause may be.
Indeed, without any assignable or recognized cause we may find ourselves
becoming careless, and indifferent to the demands of the higher life. We have
ceased to give constant and earnest heed to “the things that were heard,” and
consequently, have “drifted” away from them (Hebrews 2:1). In the Old Testament
this drifting is more than once called by the very suggestive word backsliding.
It is not a running away; not positively and consciously forsaking and giving
up, but it is slipping, sliding away.

Now with reference to this backsliding, or declension, or loss of ground, or
spiritual coldness and indifference—call it what you may—I wish to say, first,
that it is a dangerous condition. It is a movement in the wrong direction. The
soul is relaxing its hold upon God, and consequently, upon the hope that rests
on God. Second, it is a sinful condition, dishonoring to the Saviour, false to
our own profession, destructive of our influence for good, and hazarding our
eternal welfare. Third, it is pregnant with “many sorrows.” Either God will, in
the necessary severity of fatherly love, chasten us back to repentance and the
right way; or, worse still, we shall be left to reap the bitter fruits of our
own folly, and to experience the remorse of wasted opportunities and a misspent
life. But, finally, it is not a hopeless condition. Though we have lost ground,
we may regain it. By hearty repentance and renewed consecration we may get back
into the bosom of that Infinite Love which is ever open and warm to receive us.
“Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord; and I will not cause mine
anger to fall upon you: for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and I will not keep
anger forever” (Jeremiah 3:12).


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  CHAPTER 29: CHAPTER TEN:   A RECKONING
========================================================================

Whether we speak of our passage through this world to the next as a pilgrimage,
a walk, a race, or a voyage, in any case it will be wise for us occasionally to
ascertain what progress we have made, and to see just where we are. We can make
this passage but once, nor is it possible for us to avoid making it. Right or
wrong, foolishly or wisely, rapidly or slowly, we must go on and on till we
reach the end. There is no turning back. There is no way of escaping the
responsibility. Whether willingly or unwillingly, we must finish our
course,—some course, be it good or bad, and terminating in some destiny, either
of joy or sorrow, of glory or anguish. In deliberately choosing the way of life
which he will follow, and the principles by which he will be guided, and in
making this choice in the light of the highest wisdom and most trustworthy
experience known among men, the Christian is in no sense at disadvantage. His
sacrifices are no greater, his trials no more serious, his disappointments no
more frequent, his pleasures and enjoyments no less than those of the man of the
world; while he has the assurance, which the other cannot have, that at the last
he will reach the true home of his soul, and be perfectly happy.

We are, I fondly trust, faithfully striving to finish our course with joy, but
very often the winds have been contrary, while strong currents have caused us to
drift hither and thither. Fogs and mists, too, have sometimes encompassed our
little vessels, and have shut out the light of sun and stars; and now we may not
know in exactly what latitude and longitude we are. We have been trying to steer
by chart and compass, but it may be that winds and waves and tides have
deflected us to the right hand or the left; and so it will be well for us to
take an observation and ascertain our position.

The careful mariner, making his way across the pathless sea, does this every day
at noon, if the sun can be seen, and if not, he still has the record of his
log-book, from which with proximate accuracy, he can calculate his position by
“dead-reckoning.” He can, of course, tell nothing by simply looking at his
vessel, or by surveying the vast expanse of water in which it floats. To all
appearances these are just the same to-day that they were yesterday and the day
before. He must look up to the heavens. His place upon the sea is to be
ascertained by observing his relations to the heavenly bodies.

So, while it is doubtless necessary upon occasion for us to examine ourselves
whether we are in the faith, I am quite sure that frequent introspection is
neither necessary nor wholesome. Our peculiar frames and states of mind may
lead, if we brood over them, to needless discouragement, or, on the other hand,
to unwarranted spiritual elevation and self-satisfaction. It will be better for
us, I think, to consult our “log-book,” the record of the course we have been
following, and the rate at which we have been moving, and then to look up and
ascertain our present relations to the great Sun of Righteousness, whose very
unchangeableness directs and regulates our lives.

I am happy to believe that those whose principles and sympathies have led them
to accompany me in this series are persons who, perhaps for years, have
gradually been making progress—persons who could not be content to neglect the
great salvation, and who have, therefore, been all the time, though with varying
speed, going on to perfection. By comparing their present with their past, they
cannot fail to observe, first of all, a marked and decided advance in knowledge.
I do not mean by this merely an increase in intellectual attainments, nor even a
greater familiarity with the word of truth. These, great as is their importance,
are subsidiary to the true knowledge. I trust that we have come better to know
God and Jesus Christ whom he has sent, without which all other acquirements are
vain and nugatory. This knowledge, and this only, is life eternal. This
knowledge, and this only, is life eternal. We have been living with him all
these years of sunshine and shadow. He has come near to us in our sorrows. He
has hallowed our joys. He has blessed and brightened our lives. We have laid
upon him our heavy heart-burdens, and have felt relieved. With the spirit of a
little child we have drawn near to him in trustful love and in spiritual
communion, and have found peace and refreshment and comfort. Yes, we have
learned by sweet experience that in very deed he is to his people all that his
word had led us to believe. “Grace and truth have been multiplied to us through
the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord, according as his divine power hath
given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness, through the
knowledge of him who hath called us to glory and virtue” (2 Peter 1:2-3). We
have indeed made good progress if we have come to know that we may trust him;
that we may safely trust him; that we may always trust him; that he is really
caring for us, and watching over us, and sympathizing with us.

To the extent that the foregoing is true of us, we must have acquired also “the
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great
price” (1 Peter 3:4). We have learned by this time that fretting and chafing can
do us only harm; that as God rules the world, and “worketh all things after the
counsel of his own will,” our murmurings at seeming evils are really directed
against him; and we have come, let me hope, to accept what he sends us in the
spirit of resignation at least, if not yet of positive gratitude. We may not
have reached, though it is possible to reach, as the apostle did, the supreme
and crowning attainment of glorying in tribulation; but if we are cultivating
this spirit, if we are more and more clearly seeing the hand of love in every
stroke of chastisement — if we are looking for the Fatherly heart rather than
for that of the angry Judge—we are in some measure at least following Paul, as
he also followed Christ.

Surely, too, with increasing years and riper experience, we have acquired a more
complete mastery over ourselves, our passions, our appetites, our tongues.
Doubtless we have found this last the most difficult. The apostle seems to place
its achievement at the very end of progress—at the very goal of perfection. “If
any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and also able to bridle
the whole body” (James 3:2). Again, he says: “If any man among you seemeth to be
religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s
religion is vain” (James 1:26).

If we have reached a deeper and heartier interest in the welfare of our
fellow-men; if we have acquired the habit of always making allowances for their
frailty, their weakness, their temptations, their want of early instruction, and
so to put ourselves in their places that the sweet spirit of heaven-born charity
dictates our judgments and mollifies our feelings; and especially if we have
risen to the plane of earnestly desiring and faithfully laboring and sacrificing
to promote the salvation and happiness of the poor and needy, the friendless and
the outcast, we may well feel that we have drawn nearer to God, and that we are
moving onward to perfection.

But alas, how often have we stumbled and fallen! How often have the distractions
of the world, its cares and pleasures and riches, turned us from our true
course, and filled our hearts with unworthy love! Our advancement at best has
been unsteady, and come short of our duty and of the glory of God. If amid all
this checkered experience we have made any progress, it is owing to his mercy,
and because his compassions fail not. At best we have not yet attained, neither
are we already perfect. But the glorious Sun is shining above us. It is
noontide. We may look up into his face, and by comparing ourselves with his
matchless perfection, we may see and know “whereto we have already attained,”
and may settle upon our course for the future.


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  CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER ELEVEN:   SANCTIFICATION
========================================================================

This word has been greatly abused. Modern ideas have been injected into it until
it has come to stand in the popular mind for something which is not taught in
the Bible, and which to sober common sense is quite unsavory. First the Roman
Catholic Church led the thoughts of men away from the truth by assuming to
canonize, or make saints, of only certain selected dignitaries whom she chose to
esteem worthy of this high honor. In the next place, a class of Protestants,
actuated by a zeal which was not according to knowledge, have identified the
term with a sort of untempered religious extravagance and lofty personal
pretension, which to most persons seems closely related to spiritual pride. When
to this we add the brazen assumption of that modern iniquity known as Mormonism,
or the “Church of Latter Day Saints,” it will be seen how difficult it must be
for the masses of men to disentangle the word from the illicit senses with which
it has come to be popularly associated. In each of these several errors it will
be noted that the attained sanctification is limited to a certain class. Others
may be good men and good Christians, but they are not saints. A distinction has
been made and a line of separation drawn, unknown, as I read them, to the
Scriptures. I trust, therefore, that notwithstanding the disrepute in which the
doctrine as taught by men is held, the reader will consent to consider the
subject de novo in the clear light of the inspired word.

Perhaps the main cause of the Protestant delusion above mentioned, as well as of
the confusion and difficulty in the public mind, is owing to a failure to note
that in the Bible the word sanctification, together with its kindred or
equivalent terms is used to describe both a completed and also a progressive
work.

The first of these is accomplished in conversion. When a man becomes a
Christian, when he comes out of the world, and with true faith and repentance
dedicates himself to God in baptism, these very acts are sanctifying in their
effect. They separate him who performs them from merely secular pursuits, and
devote him to the service and glory of God. The apostles, consequently, do not
hesitate to characterize such persons as saints; and in the sense in which they
thus use and apply the term they certainly are saints. They are set apart and
sanctified to a special work. But it will be noticed that there is no class
distinction in this. What is true of one is true, and in the nature of the case
must be true, of all. Whoever is a Christian is necessarily and by virtue of
that fact sanctified to God. Both the old and the young, the worthy and the
unworthy, those whose lives are aglow with religious fervor, and those in whom
there is barely a spark of spiritual fire—each and all if they have not actually
renounced their hold upon Christ and made shipwreck of their faith, are
recognized and spoken of by inspired writers as “saints.” The whole church at
Corinth are addressed as the “sanctified in Christ Jesus,” notwithstanding the
numerous imperfections and sins which were known to be present in that
congregation. In like manner he addresses “all that be in Rome, beloved of God,
called to be saints.” The translators have unfortunately obscured the meaning of
this text (Romans 1:7( by inserting after “called” the verb “to be,” which might
be understood in the sense of “to become.” But this is not the true idea. As
Paul wrote it, they “called saints;” called of God—called out of the world, and
numbered among his holy ones. The reader may consult also the opening of the
several Epistles to the Ephesians, the Philippians and the Colossians.

Now when we call to mind the manifest moral delinquencies and shortcomings in
some of these Christians, and the comparative immaturity of all of them, of
which the letters themselves furnish conclusive proof, the fact that, without
exception or distinction, they are all designated as “saints” becomes impressive
and significant. I presume the Holy Spirit used this lofty term for the reason
that there is potency in it. It bears in its bosom a suggestive and forcible
reminder of what every Christian is—at least in profession and relation—and
therefore, what he ought to become, more and more, in his moral and spiritual
life. Unhappily, owing no doubt to the perverted meaning which has been given to
it, we shrink from applying to ourselves, even in thought, a term which we have
come to feel is appropriate only to the loftiest ideals of virtue, while it is
appropriated only by fanaticism and weakness, or by ecclesiastical bigotry and
baseless pretension.

But surely we may claim and should claim to be Christians—servants of God and of
the Lord Jesus Christ; and it would be wholesome for us to remember that this
claim involves that of our saintship. It would be wholesome because it would
exert a restraining influence in the presence of temptation, and be a helpful
incentive to a high and worthy life. Let us, then, freely recognize the fact,
and strive deeply to feel it, that in some sense — it may be the very lowest
that the word will bear, but still in a sense which is true and real—we are
saints of God.

I do not think that we are called upon to parade this fact before our
fellow-men, for our “saintliness” would be exposed to serious questions if we
had to proclaim and advertise it in order for it to be known. Let it show itself
in the life; let it speak in the character; let it shine before men as a light
kindled and fed by the Divine Spirit; a light whose calm and steady radiance,
undimmed by any fate or any fortune, so illuminates all that we do and all that
we are, that others, seeing our good works, are led to glorify our Father who is
in Heaven. In any case, the consciousness that we have been lifted by infinite
mercy to this high plane, and that God graciously regards us as his saints, will
be a daily and divine call to us to walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing;
while the fact that we so imperfectly fill the measure of true holiness, and so
inadequately represent the true saintly character, will incite and urge us to
the attainment of that which is higher and worthier. Thus the knowledge that we
are saints in state and relation, will be an inducement and a stimulus to become
saints in heart and life; the completed sanctification being at once the
stepping-stone and the call to that which is to be evermore progressive.

If I have not overestimated the importance of the position which I have herein
attempted to commend to the reader, and which, I think, is undoubtedly
scriptural, it will enable him to detect the fallacy in the argument which
confounds and commingles the double sense of the word sanctification, applying
to the progressive (which is never perfectly realized) texts which appertain
alone to that sanctification which is common to all Christians, without
exception or discrimination.

I trust also that it has been made sufficiently clear that this primary and
general sanctification, while in itself a high honor and distinction, is not to
be rested in as a finality, but is to be utilized in the attainment of still
higher degrees. The very genius and spirit of the Christian religion demand a
constant improvement of the grace already bestowed, as the condition upon which
we may receive new supplies, and in larger measures. There is no terminus ad
quem for us in this world; no stage at which we may sit down and say it is
enough. There are always heights beyond heights, and blessings beyond
blessings—blessings whose affluent fullness would be too great for our present
capacity, and which, therefore, await our approach to them, and our spiritual
preparation to receive them.

The second part of my subject, that of progressive sanctification, I hope to be
enabled to present in the next succeeding chapter.


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  CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER TWELVE:   SANCTIFICATION PROGRESSIVE
========================================================================

There is no recorded example among men of perfect holiness. The best and
brightest of Old Testament worthies were not spotless; and those who lived and
walked with the Saviour of men, and who drank deepest of his Spirit, never
succeeded in reproducing his sinless and glorious character. Whatever their
attainments in grace and in goodness, they had still, even from their loftiest
height of excellency, to look up with humble hearts and adoring praise to Him
who, alike in the glory of his majesty and the shame of his humiliation, was
preëminently the Holy One. And it is deeply significant that one of these
apostles of the Lord, and one, too, upon whose name there lingers, the fragrance
of the Savior’s tenderest love; nay, one who seems to have looked deepest into
his divine nature, and to have come most intimately into his sacred fellowship —
it is this one who tells us, “If we say that we no sin, we deceive ourselves,
and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8).

In like manner the great apostle to the Gentiles, distinguished above all human
kind by divine honors that were strictly exceptional; who had been visited and
addressed by the glorified Lord in person; who had been caught up to the third
heaven, and introduced into paradise; who had heard unspeakable words in that
celestial world, and had received such an abundance of revelations that his
humility before God and men called for especial safeguards —even this man, so
highly favored and so richly endowed, felt that here was something lacking to
him and in him. He expresses this feeling by saying: “Not as though I had
already attained, either were already perfect; but I follow after, if that I may
apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus” (Php 3:12). Not
yet “perfect”—something not yet “attained”—still “following after,” reaching
forth, pressing onward; still fighting, struggling, praying, hoping, waiting;
still wrestling “against the principalities, against the powers, against the
world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the
heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). Surely if this was true of him, there is no
one who may claim to have gone farther, and to have attained more. The fact that
God himself is the standard and model of perfect holiness should teach us to be
at once humble in our pretensions and most aspiring in our aims. We may never in
this world be holy as he is holy, but it is something to be permitted and
inspired to strive for it; and even in the world to come, when we sit down with
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, and enter into eternal
fellowship and fraternity with the spirits of just men made perfect, even there
we shall take up the strain of the four living beings—representative of the
whole creation—and looking up to him who is still infinitely above us, say:
“Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty” (Revelation 4:8).

There we shall indeed be free from sin, and beyond the reach of temptation; and
there our Lord, who has sanctified and cleansed us with the washing of water by
the word, will present us to himself without spot or wrinkle or any such thing,
redeemed and sanctified and glorified, but still with all eternity before us in
which to draw nearer and nearer to Him who alone is absolutely holy.

I have been led without predesign into the contemplation of this celestial
state; and now that it is before us, let it be to us an incitement and
attraction. Our chief concern while we remain here below is to “follow holiness,
with which no man shall see God.” And although we may not hope to reach here the
ultimate stage of that relative holiness which is possible to redeemed humanity,
we may, by the help of the Holy Spirit, gradually approach unto it. And the
pursuit itself, if faithfully and earnestly made, will cause us to be acceptable
to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

The subject in its practical aspects covers a large area — much too large for me
to attempt to occupy it in one brief chapter. I may, however, make a few
suggestions, which I trust will not be wholly without value.

In the first place, let me recommend as of supreme importance the cultivation of
genuine sincerity and integrity of heart. Many of us have been so accustomed to
reading and hearing the exposure of that sham sincerity which assumes to
substitute itself for the truth of God, and to plead its existence as an excuse
for neglecting the plain requirements of his word, that we in danger of
undervaluing that which is true and real, and which, as an element of Christian
character, and a condition of progress in holiness, is above all price. I have
already spoken with disfavor of false pretensions to sanctity; a mock humility
is equally contrary to the spirit of truth by which we are to be guided. In all
our intercourses with our fellowmen, in our communion with God, in our secret
thoughts and purposes, let us assume to be nothing which we are not, and to
speak nothing, either by tongue or act, but that which is true. How easy it is
or the substantial goodness of character to be sapped and undermined by what is
frequently a carelessly formed habit of insincerity! There is danger from this
source. It is so much easier to seem to be than really to be. Hypocrisy is an
ugly word; but, alas! the thing itself is much worse—it is a sin. “Beware the
leaven of the Pharisees.” It is an influence whose hidden working gradually
spreads itself till it has corrupted and rendered false the whole nature.

To thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst
not then be false to any man.

And, better still, thou canst not then be false to God. When integrity and
genuine sincerity reign within us and over us, we may come boldly to the throne
of grace, for the Father seeketh such to worship him as worship in in spirit and
in truth.

And this brings me to mention the second condition of progress in
sanctification, and perhaps the only one which calls at present for
consideration. I allude to the daily practice of holding intercourse with God.
It can hardly required to be formally stated, especially for any intelligent
Christian, that the only hope of reproducing in ourselves, in however small a
measure, those qualities characteristics of the Divine Being which constitute
his holiness is for us to bring them habitually before our minds. The
contemplation of them as living and blessed realities and beauties in his person
fills us with a longing desire to made like him. They cease to be to us merely
empty abstractions, and present themselves as concrete harmonies, fascinating to
the soul, and giving at once birth and exemplification to its highest ideals.
And then we pray. The soul moves as it were from contemplation to desire, and
from desire to earnest petition. And such prayer, so true to the inmost nature,
so worshipful of its exalted Object, so worthy in its sacred subject, is not the
expiration of empty breath, nor the heartless babbling of a cold formality; but
it prevaileth much. It brings into the soul from an inexhaustible Fountain
streams of refreshment which make it glad, with illuminations and influences
which make it strong in the Lord and in the power of his might. And, no doubt,
by the clearer vision of angel’s eyes, it is seen to come forth from every such
interview with a halo of glory upon its head, and with the shinings of divinity
in its face. By such prayer we are transformed and hallowed. “Lord, teach us how
to pray.”

I fear that it may still be necessary to say in the conclusion of this subject,
as I said in the beginning, that many person—many Christians—have ideas
respecting sanctification which make them feel that its possession in a world
like this would be undesirable; that it would separate them from the common
sympathies of their kind, and mark them as objects of derision or pity. But
which this may be true of some fanatical simulation of the grace, or of some
loud-mouthed claim by men whose conduct and reputation give it no support, it is
not true of genuine scriptural sanctification. They are the loveliest of women,
the most esteemed, honored and trusted of men — and loved and honored not simply
by the Church, but by the world as well — who, without freak or phrenzy, without
immodesty or vain boasting, show by the consistency of their conduct, the
sweetness of their disposition, the simplicity and singleness of their hearts,
and the straightforward, hones uprightness and truth of their lives, and, above
all, by their genuine and devoted love to God and men, that they minister and
feast at an altar whereat formalists and ranters have no right to eat.


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  CHAPTER 32: CHAPTER THIRTEEN:   PEACE
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It may be noted as one of the paradoxes of the New Testament that it represents
the co-existence in the same persons of war and peace. These are terms which in
secular things are incongruous and mutually exclusive. If the state described by
the one is present, that which is signified by the other is necessarily absent.
But in the kingdom of Christ it is not so. Its subjects are at the same time and
always engaged in vigorous warfare, and yet living in profound peace. Nor are
these terms used in any accommodated or unusual sense. Ware means real war;
peace is true peace. And however incompatible they may seem to be in their prima
facie or surface presentation, we know that deep down in Christian experience
these two states, if they do not merge into one, become really harmonious. We
have all been conscious, even when most ardently and resolutely fighting the
good fight of faith, that God was keeping us in perfect peace, because our minds
were stayed on him.

I have had occasion frequently to allude to the Christian warfare, a subject
which occupies much space in the apostolic Scriptures. They lead us constantly
to think of the enemies without and within—the world, the flesh and the
devil—and of the strife which must be continually maintained if we would at last
overcome them. This we may look upon as one side of our life—the side upon which
insidious foes approach us and formidable adversaries assail us. Now with wily
cunning, and anon with marshaled force and dreadful daring they attack the very
citadel of our faith, which with taunt and derision they say, “Where is thy
God?” And how often, alas! have they made breaches in our strongholds, or
deluded us into opening our gates, and ourselves bringing in, with made
exultation, their Trojan horse, filled with deadly enemies! What with pride and
vanity and sloth, and with worldly-mindedness and carnal security raising up
within, and with the hosts of sin and Satan pressing upon us from without, we
might well be appalled. If left to ourselves the conflict could result only in
disaster and defeat.

But we are not thus left. “Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome
them; because greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world” (1 John
4:4). And it is this God side of us, if I may so express it; this assured
conviction that God is, and that he is ever present with his help, and unfailing
in his support, that gives us peace of mind and composure of soul even in the
thickets of the fight. “Though an host would encamp against me, my heart shall
not fear; though war should rise up against me, in this will I be confident”
(Psalms 27:3). By the words “in this” reference is doubtless made to the first
verse of the psalm: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” If we can
exercise such faith as thing; if we are able to look away from the perils that
environ us, to the Almighty Arm that defends us, and to feel sure that whatever
help we may need in the evil day will come to us in good time and abundant
measure, we can sign the song of trust with the spirit and the understanding and
rest in peace.

Thought troubles assail and danger affright, Though friends should all fail and
foes all unite, Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide, The Scripture assures
us, the Lord will provide.

It is not only, however, in the extraordinary trials and fiercer conflicts of
life that this grace is to be sought and prized; we need it as a guard and
resource in the daily round of common experience. There is no hour so free from
care, or so exempt from temptations and ills, that it will not be brightened and
sweetened if we direct our thought and our faith to God, looking through what
may seem to be a “frowning providence,” to the “smiling face” behind. The true
conception of scriptural peace is that of an every-abiding serenity of soul,
retained and cherished alike in sunshine and in storm, in sorrow and in joy,
through good report and ill, amid all the vicissitudes and changes of this
earthly existence, and eve, if need be,

Amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter the crush of worlds.

The esteem in which the Lord would have us hold this grace is repeatedly shown;
and a few of his declarations respecting it may help us to a higher appreciation
of its worth. “O that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments! then had thy
peace been as a rive, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea” (Isaiah
48:18). Peace as a river — that is, abundant, full, living, and never failing.
And we notice that it was this blessing of peace above all others, and which
indeed includes all others, that the very heart of God had been yearning to
bestow upon the beloved “house of Jacob.” In like manner the Saviour of men,
when he was about to return to his Father, and to leave his chosen apostles to
struggle on in an unfriendly world — as in truth we all must do — a world which
promised them only tribulations, persecutions and afflictions: a world whose
sweetest smiles would be delusive, whose friendships would bring danger, and
whose highest good was fraught with evil; looking down this gloomy vista, and
selecting from his boundless resources that which alone could prepare them for
their trying future, and bear them safely through it, he imparted it to them,
and left it with them. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as
the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let
it be afraid” (John 14:27). And now, if it must be so, “let the heathen rage,
and the people imagine a vain thing”; nay, let the earth be removed, and the
mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; and let the waters thereof roar
and be troubled, and the mountains shake with the swelling thereof; the rage of
the nations is impotent, and the roaring of the seas gives not alarm. For deep
down in the soul, far beyond any disturbance from earthly enmity or ill, there
flows and eternal and gladdening river of peace.

With such knowledge of its origin, and with daily experience of its comfort, it
is no wonder that the apostles speak of it in terms of highest appreciation. It
is “from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Romans 1:7); it is a
“fruit of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:22); “the kingdom of God is righteousness,
and peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Romans 14:17). To the Colossians the
injunction is given: “Let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also ye
were called in one body; and be ye thankful” (Colossians 3:15); while to the
Philippians is given that infallible and all-comprehensive prescription for
happiness: “In nothing be anxious; but in everything by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of
God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts
in Christ Jesus” (Php 4:6-7). It is indeed incomprehensible even to him who
experiences it. Like the gracious Spirit by whom it is imparted, its coming is
attended by no convulsive shock nor startling sound. We may not observe its
quiet approach, but as we rise from the fervent “prayer and supplication with
thanksgiving,” we find that somehow a divine calmness of soul, a sweet rest as
from heaven, is present with us; and this is God’s peace.

The attentive reader has doubtless noticed—and I trust without surprise — that
in seeking in my humble way to aid him to attainment of this grace, I have
simply sought to lead him to its Source. It might be helpful to timid Christians
for me to add that, inexpressibly precious as this peace is, its acquisition is
not difficult. True, it is wholly supernatural in its origin; it is a gift; we
cannot create it, nor work ourselves into it. But what blessing have we ever
enjoyed that has not come down to us from the Father of lights? And he is
waiting to bestow this one upon every child of his who will open the door of his
heart to receive it. All of us, therefore, even the poorest and humblest, and
however unworthy we may feel ourselves to be, live every day within reach, to
say the least, of this heavenly boon. And we have but to stretch forth the hand
of faith and of earnest prayer, for it to be ours. But let us remember that it
lies not at the end of labor and toil and struggle. We do not come to it by that
road. Nor is it to be gained by exciting and agitating ourselves with reference
to it—not even by exciting and agitating prayer, as if Heaven must be stormed
and God aroused in order to procure it; but by “praying in the Holy Spirit” —
the calm, trustful, reposeful prayer, that believes in God’s love, and that lays
the soul down upon his bosom that in him it may find rest.


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  CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER FOURTEEN:   DRAWING NEAR
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The Epistle to the Hebrews exhibits the Christian religion not only in the
strength of its great argument, but in picturesque beauty and attractiveness. It
draws from the offices and institutions of the Old Testament illustrations of
the New. It discloses to us the gradual unfolding of God’s eternal purpose, and
makes known the object lessons by which men were educated to appreciate that
purpose, and to enter into sympathy with it. After conducting us over the whole
field of priestly consecration and ministration under the law, and explaining
the prophetic announcement of a new and higher priestly order, whose type, in
the person of Melchizedek was antecedent and superior to the Aaronic priesthood,
we are brought to see and to feel that the full realization of all these types
and prophecies is found in Jesus Christ and the institutions which he has
established. He, as our great High Priest, had made the one needed and only
efficacious sacrifice; has ascended into heaven itself, the true holy place; and
there, in an unchangeable priesthood after the order of Melchizedek, he ever
lives to make intercession for us.

And now, on the ground of this most stupendous fact, we are exhorted to draw
near to the same holy place that we may obtain the blessings which are there
provided and treasured up for us. The language, while stimulating to this high
duty and privilege, is at the same time full of instruction. It reads:

“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holy place by the blood
of Jesus, by the way which he hath dedicated for us, a new and living way,
through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having a great priest over the
house of God; let us draw near with a true heart in fullness of faith, having
our heart sprinkled from and evil conscience, and our body washed with pure
water; let us hold fast the confession of our hope, that it waver not; for he is
faithful that promised; and let us consider one another to provoke unto love and
good works; not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the custom of
some is, but exhorting one another; and so much the more, as ye see the day
drawing nigh” (Hebrews 10:19-25).

But although we are thus urged to “draw near,” and are even told that we do so
with “boldness,” we are still reminded of the preparation necessary for
appearing in such a place and in such a Presence. And first of all we are to
come with a “true heart.” If there is anyone thing that should distinguish a
Christian above everything else, it is perfect integrity and honesty—truth in
the innermost part of his being—a perfect genuineness that is free from all sham
and hollow pretense.

Already I have had occasion to speak of this under a different heading, but I
feel that it needs to be emphasized again and again. We may not only impose upon
others by an empty profession and sort of make-believe Christianity, but the
Scriptures warn us that we may deceive ourselves — that we may think ourselves
to be something when we are nothing. And there are no words which should come
home to the soul in a tone of deeper solemnity, or with more awakening and even
startling power than those which say to us, “Be not deceived!” Deceived, mark
you—deceived in a matter of life and death. Those in this condition are not
hypocrites, at least not consciously such. A hypocrite knows that his life is
untrue and his profession false; but what must it be to think you are right when
you are wrong, that you are safe when you are lost!

But let no one feel discouraged. The fact that we are told not to be deceived,
while it shows the danger, indicates at the same time that the danger may be
avoided. And here as we come by the divine counsel to draw near to the very
holiest place in all of God’s dominion, and to One who knows the secrets of all
hearts and all lives, it is specially incumbent upon us to see that our hearts
at least are true. We may be conscious of great infirmities; we may feel deep
down in our souls that we have come far short of what we might have been and
might have done; we may know that in many things we have offended, and that we
can only look unto the mercy of God for acceptance—still if we are truly and
honestly conscious of all this, and do not simply pretend to feel and to believe
it, we may enter into the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by the way which he
dedicated for us, a new and living way, through the veil; and may do this in
that perfect faith which is called in the text “fullness of faith.”

I presume that having “the heart sprinkled from an evil conscience and the body
washed with pure water,” is not an additional, but a preceding work. These
clauses refer back to that original cleansing and sanctification which we
received in becoming Christians, and being thus made “priests unto God.” In
other words, they refer to that great change in which our hearts were “purified
by faith”; and when we “put off the old man with his deeds,” being “buried with
Christ by baptism,” and not only “buried with him,” we were actually “baptized
into him.”

It cannot escape the attention of any that this preparation for drawing near is
represented as most searchingly thorough and complete, embracing the whole man,
his heart, his conscience, his body, and the very state and attitude of his
soul; and that to render such preparation possible it was preceded by the
infinite love and wisdom of God, and by the amazing work of Christ. But when we
remember that it is an approach to the very fountain of love and throne of
grace, and into His presence who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, who
can detect every false way, and will repudiate all empty lip service, it will be
seen that such preparation is not only becoming, but necessary.

And now supposing it to have been made, and I am sure that some, and I trust
many, of my readers have made it, and that the “way into the holiest” lies open
and manifest before them, in what spirit and frame of mind should they approach?

More than once the Scripture answers, with “boldness.” When we sustain to God
the relation that entitles us to come to him; when our hearts are true and pure;
when our consciences are clean; when our life and walk are consistent with our
profession, and when our desires, affections and aspirations are such as God
approves, the whole ocean of his love is accessible to us, and we may enter his
presence not with presumptuous daring, certainly, but with all freedom of speech
(which is the meaning here of boldness), and in the confidence of undoubting and
unwavering faith.

I shall be pardoned, I trust, for recommending those to whom this exalted
privilege has been accorded, to learn, as soon as possible, and to embrace the
truth that what we really need, and all that we need, is God himself. We know
not what to pray for as we ought. Often the things most earnestly desired would
be hurtful to us. And yet, little children that we are, short-sighted and
ignorant, we can but long and pray for what seems to us to be good. Nor is such
prayer to be supposed. We are taught that in everything we are by prayer and
supplication to make our requests known unto God, though of course always in
subordination to his will, and with hearty recognition of his superior wisdom.
Such prayers, whether specially granted or not, have always this blessing in
them: that they bring us before God, and draw us nearer to him. But these
prayers, though they manifest a degree of faith, and sometimes even a high
degree, indicate at the same time the absence of the very highest. Perfect trust
in God’s wisdom and care and love, an unqualified confidence in his gracious and
abiding presence and sleepless oversight, would cause us to wait on him in
worshipful adoration, rather than with Psalmist to be crying, “Make haste to
help us.” And I am sure that when we draw very near, when we really enter, even
here and now, into the holy place, and come into full communion with the Father
and with his Son, Jesus Christ, we shall be able in large measure to anticipate
“that day” in which, as our Lord says, “Ye shall ask me nothing.” This is the
very acme of faith—when the trust in his goodness and wisdom, and power and
love, is so assured and steady that nothing is desired or prayed for but that
his will be done. We may not reach this exalted spiritual state here, but we may
make it our goal and object, and may more and more approach unto it, drawing
daily nearer and nearer, and so entering more and more into “the fullness of the
blessing of the gospel of Christ.”

God is the Father of our spirits. We have been separated from him by sin, which
has caused all our unrest and misery. What we need, all that we need, is to get
back into perfect communion and fellowship with him; and this is what is
contemplated in all the redeeming work of Christ, and the sanctifying influences
of his Spirit. When we come to see and to realize this; when all temporal and
transitory things become as nothing in comparison with this one thing, our only
thought and feeling will be to say, like David: “As the hart panteth after the
water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God,
for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?”


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  CHAPTER 34: CHAPTER FIFTEEN:   BEHOLD THE PERFECT MAN..
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In bringing to a close what I have deemed it necessary to say on Christian
Progress, I desired to speak a few words, which I trust may be strengthening and
comforting respecting the last great change here below, and the final destiny
above.

Christians frequently misinterpret the feelings which arise in them at the
prospect of death. As we are at present constituted we are made to live in this
world. We are bound to it by numerous ties of friendship and affection. For many
long years it has been our home. All the sweet memories of childhood and early
life are connected with it, as are also the struggles and trials and sorrows of
maturer years. It is here that we have planned and worked and hoped, and here
that we are still planning and working and hoping. We are at all times mixed up
with present business, present cares, present responsibilities — matters and
things which are in process, which have not yet been worked out. All these
things seem to give us the pledge and promise of a future here, not a distant
one, but still one that for the time at least is assured and certain. We count
upon it; we lay our plans with reference to it; and while we may recognize in a
general way the uncertainty of life, and may even say from the heart, as taught
by the Scriptures, “If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this or that”—we
still think that we shall live. All this is natural and right. If it were
otherwise with us we should not be fitted for the duties which God has made
incumbent upon us. But it is this which causes the prospect of death to present
itself as a sort of shock—as something that would be unwelcome and even
dreadful. But it should be understood that this feeling with which we
contemplate it is not the fear of death, or of any consequence growing out of
it; it is simply the God-ordained clinging to this life until it shall please
him to loose the times which bind us to it.

And when this time really comes—when the heavenly Father calls for us — it will
be a Father’s call, and we shall feel and know that he is but saying to us,
“Come up higher.” We have been accustomed to associate the idea of death with
the river Jordan which separated the children of Israel from the land of
promise; and it is almost with a shudder of apprehension that we think of
entering the rolling flood of its deep, dark, cold waters—all alone! But blessed
be God, we do not enter them. Our Great Priest, with the ark of the covenant,
has passed in before us, and the waters have “stood up upon an heap,” so that,
like the Israelites, we may pass over on dry ground. The fears and alarms, so
naturally anticipated, are not realized. We finish our course with joy; and we
enter the realm of death with thanksgiving to Him who giveth us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ.

No, it is not dreadful to die. And however our earthly nature may shrink back
from it, I feel sure that He who has given us grace to live will, when we come
to need it, give us grace to die. He will support us with the cordials of his
love; he will comfort us with the blessed word; “Be not afraid, lo, I am with
you;” and thus gently, tenderly, and lovingly he will lull us to sleep upon his
bosom; and the great solemn, mysterious pilgrimage of life will be over.

To most of us it has been a long and wearisome journey. The pathway has often
led through danger and difficulty, and we have had many a hard-fought battle. We
have passed through trials and toils and tears; but out of them all the Lord has
delivered us, and though them all he has brought us safely to the end. And now
we leave behind us our carnal nature; we come out of our earthly house; and the
real true individual self, for whose perfection and glorification we have been
subjected to the discipline of life, departs in the blessed freedom of a
spiritual body, without the burden of flesh and blood, and without the trammels
of temptation or sin. By the powerful attraction of mutual love and likeness of
nature it is drawn and borne into the society of just men made perfect, and into
closer fellowship with Him who lives and reigns over all, God blessed forever.

It would not be seemly for us with our carnal eyes to try to peer curiously into
the secrets of this spiritual state and condition. If it had been proper for us
to know them, they had doubtless been fully revealed. As it is, we have only
glimpses here and there of a life and a home of whose nature we can but faintly
conceive. Enough, however, is told us to animate our hope, and to furnish cheer
and support while waiting to be called.

Among the things thus certified to us, the reality of the future state is by no
means the least important. It is never once spoken of in the New Testament in
any problematical or doubtful terms. While the wisest men of the world, its
deepest thinkers and soberest reasoners speculated about, and at best deemed it
probable that such an existence might be, Christ testified of it; declared what
he had seen and known in the heavens; spoke of the angels that lived there; of
his Father’s house and its many mansions; and always as a matter of certain
knowledge, never as an inference from observed phenomena, or a conclusion drawn
from any logical premises. The existence of that blessed state was an assured
and certain fact. “We speak that we do know, and bear witness of that we have
seen.” In the same tone of perfect assurance the inspired apostles uniformly
allude to it. We cannot read their recorded words without feeling that to their
minds the future state was just as real as the present. They seemed to live and
move and think and feel in the very light of it. However men may seek to account
for it, it is at any rate a fact as remarkable as it is beyond question that
somehow there had come into the minds and hearts of these chosen men a
conviction respecting the world above and the life after death, which held them
to be as undoubted and real as the world and the life below. As we read the
plain and honest records of these holy men we feel that they but reflect the
glories of overshining heavens; and the gospel of life everlasting which they
preached — the gospel for whose success they lived, and for whose maintenance
they died — seems to derive its charm and its efficacy from powers coming in
from above. So well assured were they of all this; so present and certain was it
to their consciousness; so deep and strong and clear were their convictions of
it, that the very intensity with which they realized it has made it real to all
succeeding generations.

In the next place it is obvious to remark that for all the children of God this
state is depicted as one of unalloyed happiness. They rest from their labors.
Their tear are wiped away. Sorrow and crying are unknown. Sin with its polluting
touch, and temptation with its perilous power, are warded off, and nothing that
defiles or that loveth a lie can gain access to them. And not only so; not only
are they freed from all evil and saved from all danger, but they are positively
and fully blessed. They sing the song of Moses and the Lamb, and rejoice with
joy unspeakable and full of glory.

The fact, too, that it is a life in which the very highest intelligences take
delight, is evidence conclusive that its employments and activities are such as
can give pleasure and satisfaction to personalities so exalted in wisdom and so
abundant in knowledge. It is not, therefore, a life which is passed in a mere
round of monotonous ecstasy, nor yet in the idleness of dreamy inactivity, but
such a life as the great mind and heart of Paul would love to lead; such a life
as Luther and Wesley and Alexander Campbell would find congenial to their
sanctified tastes and noblest powers; a life truer, loftier, more glorious and
blessed than human heart has ever conceived; a life, therefore, worthy of all
sacrifices and all perseverance to attain.

And finally, when it is attained, we begin for the first time to realize the
profundity and immensity of that perfection in Christ Jesus towards which we
have been going on. And let me hope that with renewed zeal and more determined
purpose we will continue to “press on toward the goal unto the prize of the high
calling of God in Christ Jesus.”

The end shall crown the work—

Ah, who shall tell the end?

It is a woesome way, and clouds portend. The work is all we know;

Enough for our faint sight, The end God knows—press on— The crown is light!


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Source: https://sermonindex.net/books/first-principles/
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