Assurance of salvation in Christian preaching emphasizes the believer's confident trust in God's unchanging promise of eternal security through Christ's atoning work (John 10:28-29). Illustrations often use images of divine protection, royal pardons, and steadfast light to convey the certainty and peace that come from resting in God's faithful keeping despite human weakness or doubt.
The Spirit's witness to believers is immediate and certain, not gradual or doubtful.
WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT, Instantaneous The witness of the Spirit, from its nature as a witness, must be instantaneous. A witness deposes to a particular fact; and there must be a particular instant of time when his testimony is given. The mathematician slowly, by the use of single ciphers and symbols, works out his problems in order to find a result concerning which he is altogether in doubt; the chemist slowly and cautiously conducts experiments to find out the nature of substances concerning which he is totally ignorant; but a witness enters a court to depose to a fact of which he has already a full knowledge, and whose testimony the court is now waiting to hear. He who believes in Jesus Christ is in a scriptural condition to receive the witness of the Spirit that he is a child of God; and the case neither requires nor admits that the witness should be gradually imparted. When a parent has forgiven his child, he does not gradually reveal that fact to him, but gives immediate proof in his countenance and actions, if not in words, that he again loves him. S. Hulme.
Without the Spirit's witness, one faces eternal judgment without assurance of salvation.
WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT, Loss of the This is what I wish you not to rest without. Do not face death without it: do not! How awful to go to appear before the living God, if you have not the testimony in your souls that you are born of him! John Binyau well describes a poor, wretched, self-deceived pilgrim, who had trusted to a vague and general belief without actual conversion, coming to the gate of the celestial city, but refused an entrance, because "he had no certificate to be taken in." "He fumbled," says he, "in his bosom for it; but he found none. Then I saw the shining ones commanded to bind him head and heels, and throw him into the hole at the side of the hill." Beware, lest thou art as he! Dr. A. Clarke.
The Spirit's testimony is necessary to assure us that God is truly our Father.
If the Holy Spirit of God did not bear testimony to paternal love, our tongue would remain silent; for we could not in prayer call him Father, unless we were assured that he was really so. Our own mind of itself, independent of the preceding testimony of the Spirit, could not produce this persuasion that we are the sons of God. Calvin.
Both God's Spirit and our spirit testify to our adoption as God's children.
Like as fire is known not to be painted fire, but true fire, by heat and by the flame; so there are two witnesses of our adoption.—God's Spirit and our spirit. Like as if a king or nobleman should, of mere love and favor, take in a beggar, nay a traitor, even so God did with us. Cairdray.
A dying boy finds joy and assurance in Christ through reading his Bible.
The missionary, on visiting him, says, "I found him dying of consumption, and in a state of the most awful poverty and destitution, in a small birch-rind covered hut, with nothing but a few fern-leaves under him, and an old blanket over him. After recovering from my surprise, I said, 'My poor boy, I am very sorry to see you in this state; had you let me know, you should not have been lying here.' He replied, 'It is very little I want now, and these poor people get it for me; but I should like something softer to lie upon, as my bones are very sore.' I then asked him concerning the state of his mind, when he replied, that he was very happy; that Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, had died to save him, and that he had the most perfect confidence in him. Observing a small Bible under the corner of his blanket, I said, 'Jack, you have a friend there; I am glad to see that; I hope you find something good there.' Weak as he was, he raised himself on his elbow, held it in his attenuated hand, while a smile played on his countenance, and slowly spoke, in precisely the following words: 'That, sir, is my dear friend. You gave it me. For a long time I read it much, and often thought of what it told. Last year I went to see my sister at Lake Winnipeg, (about two hundred miles off,) where I remained about two months. When I was half way back through the lake, I remembered that I had left my Bible behind me. I directly turned round, and was nine days by myself, tossing to and fro, before I could reach the house; but I found my friend, and determined that I would not part with it again, and ever since it has been near my breast, and I thought I should have buried it with me; but I have thought since, I had better give it to you, when I am gone, and it may do some one else good.'
A soldier's daughter's letter led him to pray and find assurance of salvation in Christ.
Not long ago, writes a gentleman in 1833, as I took some coffee at a house of refreshment, a gentleman who was reading the newspaper, entered into conversation with me. Among other things, we spoke of the Christian Sabbath, when he thus expressed himself:—"Though there is doubtless much ungodliness in England, yet when compared with the Sabbaths on the continent, a Sabbath here is a delightful season. No one can truly value that blessed day until he has been deprived of its enjoyment. When in the army, I felt this deprivation; we had misery in every shape, for, in the Peninsular war, toil, danger, disease, and death, were continually around and among us. The nearer the men appeared to be to eternity, the farther off their thoughts seemed to be from God.
"It was on the Sabbath day that I received a letter from an affectionate daughter, then in England; it alluded to the uncertainty of life, especially to a military man. It pressed on me the consideration of eternal things, and pointed me to Him who, in peace and in war, in health and in sickness, in life and in death, is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him. Every word made a lodgment in my heart. Folding up the letter, and putting a book of prayer in my pocket, I walked out to a distance from the camp, until I came to a solitary ditch; in that ditch, on my knees, I poured out my soul before God, and there, in peace, I spent my Sabbath day."
A sick boy rejected priestly rites, trusting fully in Jesus as his eternal High Priest.
A little boy, who was educated in one of the London Hibernian Schools, in the county of Roscommon, was seized by sickness, and confined to his bed. In a few days his dissolution seemed to be near. The parents of the boy being Roman Catholics, sent immediately for the priest, to have the rites of their church administered, which, in their estimation, was the needful preparation for heaven. On the arrival of the priest, the boy seemed much confused, and astonished at his coming. "Your visit," said the boy, "was altogether unnecessary; I have no need of your help or assistance: I have a great High Priest at the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens, able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him: He lives for evermore, to make intercession; and He is such a priest as I require." The priest perceiving it to be in vain to reason at such a time, and knowing the boy to have been made acquainted with the Bible, went away. The child requested his parents to send for his schoolmaster, who stated that he never witnessed such a scene; it was altogether unexpected. The boy was always silent; though he was attentive to the instructions given at school, he never once hinted a change in his sentiments. In the course of conversation, he was asked if he was afraid to die. "No," replied the boy; "my Redeemer is Lord of the dead and living; I love him for his love to me, and soon I hope to be with him to see his glory."
# CHI
# St. Divinity of Christ.
An aged blacksmith regrets neglecting faith and church, longing for renewed assurance.
In the year 184-, Mr. W., of R. I., related the following: "Thirty-four years ago I thought God, for Christ's sake, pardoned my sins. My wife and myself thought it duty to follow Christ in baptism, and unite with the people of God. The day arrived on which we were to relate our experience to the church, with a view to becoming members. We were nearly prepared to leave home, when a gentleman called, and wished to transact some business with me. I told my wife to go on—I would be along soon. She went, related her experience, was baptized, and lived and died in the bosom of the church. But I was detained longer than I expected to be, and found, when ready to go, that it was too late. The next meeting for the purpose I was again hindered by yielding to worldly business; and by the third meeting I had little inclination to go, and doubted whether I was a Christian. Since then you have heard me profane the name of God, and seen me neglect the house of his worship. But there has never been a single night that I have not, when laying my head upon my pillow, reflected upon the time of my redemption, and endured bitter remorse in view of my disobedience. But the feeling which I had on that afternoon, has never returned. If I walk, I must go in the dark. And now I am about 'fourscore years old,' and had I the world I would give it, for a return of that impressive sense of my obligation to God which should lead me to do the long neglected duty. O! my friends, as you value your soul's interest, let no earthly consideration prevent the immediate discharge of duty."
Assurance of salvation brings peace and joy even amid suffering and death.
Philip, Bishop of Heraclea, in the beginning of the 4th century, was dragged by the feet through the streets, severely scourged, and then brought and I fear I shall be lost for ever."
Her tears for some time prevented her from saying more: but when able to proceed, she told him that she had long wished to make known to him the state of her mind. Overcome with joy at this unexpected answer, he endeavored to convince her of the certainty of salvation to all who, conscious of their depravity, confide in the merits of the
Redeemer, for acceptance with God.
Her distress was continued for two days longer, when, resting entirely on Christ, every degree of gloom was removed, and she was favored for fifteen days with holy peace and joy. Christ was increasingly precious to her, and her father had the blessedness of witnessing her triumphant departure, in full assurance of hope, in the fifteenth year of her age.
Ebenezer Erskine rested and died confidently trusting in God's covenant promise.
A friend calling on the Rev. Ebenezer Erskine, during his last illness, said to him, "Sir, you have given us many good advices, pray what are you now doing with you own soul?"
"I am doing with it," said he, "what I did forty years ago; I am resting on that word, I am the Lord thy God; and on this I mean to die." To another, he said, "The covenant is my charter, and if it had not been for that blessed word, I am the Lord thy God, my hope and strength had perished from the Lord." The night on which he died, his eldest daughter was reading in the room where he was, to whom he said, "What book is that you are reading, my dear?" "It is one of your sermons, sir." "What one is it?" "It is the sermon on that text, 'I am the Lord thy God.'" "O woman," said he, "that is the best sermon I ever preached." And it was most probably the best to his soul. A little afterwards, with his finger and thumb he shut his own eyes, and laying his hand below his cheek, breathed out his soul into the hands of his living Redeemer. Happy the man that is in such a state! happy the man whose God is the Lord!
Robert Bruce confidently faced death, assured nothing can separate him from Christ's love.
Mr. Robert Bruce, the morning before he died, being at breakfast, having, as he used, eaten an egg, he said to his daughter, "I think I am yet hungry; you may bring me another egg." But having mused a while, he said, "Hold, daughter, hold, my master calls me." With these words his sight failed him: on which he called for the Bible, and said, "Turn to the 8th chapter of the Romans, and set my finger on the words, 'I am persuaded that neither death nor life, &c., shall be able to separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus my Lord.'" When this was done he said, "Now is my finger upon them?" Being told that it was, he added, "Now, God be with you, my dear children: I have breakfasted with you, and shall sup with my Lord Jesus Christ this night;" and then expired.
Rev. William Janeway found joy and assurance of salvation after earnest prayer for his dying father.
This good man, who was the father of the Rev. John Janeway, being brought to his death-bed, endured great conflict of mind, and entertained many fears as to his future happiness. Under those circumstances, he asked the prayers of his son, who, though he entertained no doubt as to the real piety of his father, was filled with Christian sympathy; and having retired, he spent some time in wrestling with God upon his father's account, earnestly praying that he would fill him with joy unspeakable in believing, and that he would speedily give him some token for good, that he might joyfully and honorably leave this world to go to a better. After he was risen from his knees, he went down to his sick father, and asked him how he felt himself. His father made no answer for some time, but wept exceedingly, to which he was not subject, and continued for some considerable time weeping, so that he was not able to speak. But at last, having recovered himself, with unspeakable joy he burst out into such expressions as these:—"O son, now it is come, it is come, it is come! I bless God I can die; the Spirit of God hath witnessed with my spirit that I am his child. Now I can look upon God as my dear Father, and Christ as my Redeemer. I can now say, This is my Friend, and this is my Beloved. My heart is full; it is brimful; I can hold no more. I know now what that sentence means.—The peace of God which passeth understanding. That fit of weeping which you saw me in, was a fit of overpowering love and joy, so great that I could not contain myself; neither can I express what glorious discoveries God has made of himself unto me. And had that joy been greater, I question whether I could have borne it, and whether it would not have separated soul and body. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name, who hath pardoned all my sins, and sealed the pardon! He hath healed my wounds, and caused the bones which he had broken to rejoice. Oh, now I can die! It is nothing: I bless God I can die. I desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ." In this delightful frame of soul he shortly after left earth for heaven.
A Christian's joyful assurance of salvation and heaven at death.
The Rev. Thomas Scott, during his last illness, having received the sacrament, at the conclusion of the service, he adopted the language of Simeon, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Through the remainder of the day, and during the night, he continued in a very happy state of mind. To one who came in the evening, he said, "It was beneficial to me: I received Christ last night: I bless God for it." He then repeated, in the most emphatic manner, the whole twelfth chapter of Isaiah. The next morning he said, "This is heaven begun. I have done with darkness for ever—for ever. Satan is vanquished. Nothing now remains but salvation with eternal glory—eternal glory."
A dying man's comfort and joy meditating on Romans 8 and seeing Christ's glory.
Mr. John Holland, the day before he died, called for the Bible, saying, "Come, O come; death approaches, let us gather some flowers to comfort this hour; and turning with his own hand to the 8th chapter of Romans, he gave the book to Mr. Leigh, and bade him read:
at the end of every verse, he paused, and then gave the sense, to his own comfort, but more to the joy and wonder of his friends. Having continued his meditations on the 8th of the Romans, thus read to him, for two hours or more, on a sudden he said, "O stay your reading. What brightness is this
I see? Have you lighted up any candles?" Mr. Leigh answered, "No, it is the sunshine;" for it was about five o'clock in a clear summer evening.
"Sunshine!" said he, "nay, it is my
Saviour's shine. Now, farewell world;
welcome heaven. The day-star from on high hath visited my heart. O speak it when I am gone, and preach it at my funeral; God deaieth familiarly with man. I feel his mercy; I see his majesty; whether in the body or out of the body, I cannot tell, God knoweth;
but I see things that are unutterable."
Thus ravished in spirit, he roamed towards heaven with a cheerful look, and soft sweet voice; but what he said could not be understood.
A dying believer's peace rests on Christ's mercy, not his own righteousness.
"I have lived," says Hooker, "to see that this world is made up of perturbations; and I have long been preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, which I now apprehend to be near. And though I have by his grace loved him in my youth, and feared him in my age, and labored to have a conscience void of offence towards him, and towards all men; yet, if thou, Lord, shouldst be extreme to mark what I have done amiss, who can abide it?" And therefore, where I have failed, Lord, show mercy to me, for I plead not my righteousness, but the forgiveness of my unrighteousness, through his merits who died to purchase pardon for penitent sinners.
And since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and then take thine own time, I submit to it. Let not mine, O Lord, but thy will be done!
God hath heard my daily petitions; for
I am at peace with all men; and He is at peace with me. From such blessed assurance, I feel that inward joy which this world can neither give nor take from me. My conscience beareth me this witness, and this witness makes the thought of death joyful. I could wish to live to do the Church more service, but cannot hope for it; for my days are past, as a shadow that runs not." This worthy biographer adds: "More he would have spoken, but his spirits failed him, and after a sharp conflict between nature and death, a quiet sigh put a period to his last breath, and so he fell asleep."
A suffering Christian joyfully anticipates heaven and Christ's glory at death.
Dr. Payson, upon dying, said, "My God, is in this room, I see him, and oh! how lovely is the sight, how glorious does he appear; worthy of ten thousand hearts if I had so many to give." At another time, when his body was racked by inconceivable suffering, and his cheeks pale and sunken with disease, he exclaimed, like a warrior returning from the field of triumph, "The battle's fought! the battle's fought! and the victory is won! the victory is won for ever! I am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity!" At another time he exclaimed, "The celestial city is full in view—its glories beam upon me—its breezes fan me—its odors are wafted to me; its music strikes upon my ear, and its spirit breathes into my heart; nothing separates me from it, but the river of death, which now appears as a narrow rill, which may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission.
"The sun of righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and larger as he approached, and now he fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm."
# 120. Unreadiness for Death.
Martyr Robert Glover found sudden consolation at death after long spiritual darkness.
Many good people, who feel that the "grace" of God is now "sufficient for" them, are nevertheless disquieted with a fearful apprehension that in death "their hope will be as the giving up of the ghost." It is related of Robert Glover, one of the martyrs, that for several days before his death he was almost overwhelmed with the prospect of martyrdom, and earnestly supplicated for the light of God's countenance, without any sense of comfort. His darkness continued up to the period of his arriving within sight of the stake, when suddenly his whole soul was so filled with consolation, that he could not forbear clapping his hands, and crying out, "He is come! He is come!" He appeared to go up to heaven in a chariot of fire, with little or no apparent sensibility of his cruel death.
# MEETING-HOUSES.
gether the principal persons connected with his charge, and said to them, "Now I shall be asked, whether we have conscientiously done all that we can for the removal of this debt; what answer am I to give? Brother So-and-so, can you in conscience say that you have?"
"Why, sir," he replied, "If you come to conscience, I don't know that I can." The same question he put to a second, and a third, and so on, and similar answers were returned, till the whole sum required was subscribed, and there was no longer any need of their pastor's wearing out his soul in coming to London on any such unpleasant excursion.
A Christian fears losing salvation despite a life of faith and godly dislike of sin.
The late Rev. Robert Johnson says, "In Bishop Wilton lived a good man, named Thomas Wetherell, much respected, with whom I was intimately acquainted about twenty years ago. I heard that he was ill, and went to Bishop Wilton to see him. On my arrival, I said, 'I am an old friend come to see you. I was afraid you would make your escape to heaven before I had an opportunity.' He replied, 'O, dear sir, I fear I shall never get there. I have lost my way! I have lost my way! Oh, what a stumbling-block am I now, after enjoying confidence for forty years!' I answered, 'I am very sorry that you have turned out so badly. I imagine my visit will not be acceptable. I suppose you have become very wicked, and fond of trifling, vain, worldly company.' He immediately rejoined, 'Oh, no, no! I cannot bear them. I cannot bear them.' I said, 'I am glad of that; and you may be sure of this, that the Lord will not send you to hell among them hereafter, when you so much dislike their ways and company now.'
"He was particularly struck with the manner and language in which I addressed him. 'Come,' said I, 'let me have the history of your complaint.' He proceeded, and said, 'Some time ago, I had a paralytic stroke. I was very ill, but very happy in God. Every one thought I was dying, and I thought so myself; and was full of peace and joy. But, contrary to expectation, I got so far better as to be able to walk about, though unable to work. I never was married; and by frugality and industry I saved about one hundred pounds. But it occurred to me that I might live a considerable time in this debilitated state; my hundred pounds would soon be gone; and I should, after all, become
146. D
Confidence in Christ's merits overcomes fear and doubt at death.
MER.—This excellent man was rector of Much Hadham, Herts., and died in 1625, heroically closing his own eyelids, and with these words on his lips; "Let my people know that their pastor died undaunted, and not afraid of death! I bless my God, I have no fear, no doubt, no reluctance, but a sure confidence in the sin-overcoming merits of Jesus Christ."
Faith in Christ's promise brings peace and assurance at death.
When this eminent prelate lay on his dying bed, he called for his chaplain, and said, "Though I have endeavored to avoid sin and please God to the utmost of my power, yet, from the consciousness of perpetual infirmities, I am still afraid to die."
"My lord," said the chaplain, "you have forgotten that Jesus Christ is a Savior."
"True," was the answer, "but how shall I know that he is a Savior for me?"
"My lord, it is written, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.'"
"True," said the bishop, "and I am surprised that, though I have read that Scripture a thousand times over, I never felt its virtue till this moment; and now I die happy!"
Realizing Christ saves the lost brings hope and assurance to the despairing sinner.
Mr. Whitefield, brother of the noted preacher, had fallen into a backslidden state; but under a sermon preached by his brother in the Countess of Huntingdon's chapel, Bath, it pleased God to arouse him from that state; after which, however, he became melancholy and despairing. He was taking tea with the Countess of Huntingdon, on a service evening, in the chapel house, and her ladyship endeavored to raise his desponding hopes by conversing on God's infinite mercy through Jesus Christ; but, for a while, in vain. "My lady," he replied, "I know what you say is true. The mercy of God is infinite: I see it clearly. But, ah! my lady, there is no mercy for me—I am a wretch, entirely lost." "I am glad to hear it, Mr. Whitefield," said Lady H. "I am glad at my heart that you are a lost man." He looked with great surprise. "What, my lady, glad! glad at your heart that I am a lost man?" "Yes, Mr. Whitefield, truly glad; for Jesus Christ came into the world to save the lost!" He laid down his cup of tea on the table. "Blessed be God for that," said he, "Glory to God for that word," he exclaimed. "Oh what unusual power is this which I feel attending it! Jesus Christ came to save the lost! then I have a ray of hope," and so he went on. As he finished his last cup of tea, his hand trembled, and he complained of illness. He went out into the chapel court for the benefit of the air, but staggered to the wall, exclaiming, "I am very ill." A poor old woman, who was going into the chapel, lent him her staff to support him into the house, saying she would call for it when Divine service was over, and inquire after him. But his time was come. Soon after he was brought into the house he expired.
God’s grace and mercy can bring hope and salvation even in despair and doubt.
"I have heard," says Mr. Daniel Wilson, in a sermon of his, "of a certain person, whose name I could mention, who was tempted to conclude his day over, and himself lost; that, therefore, it was his best course to put an end to his life, which, if continued, would but serve to increase his sin, and consequently his misery, from which there was no escape; and seeing he must be in hell, the sooner he was there the sooner he should know the worst; which was preferable to his being worn away with the tormenting expectation of what was to come. Under the influence of such suggestions as these, he went to a river, with a design to throw himself in; but as he was about to do it, he seemed to hear a voice saying to him, Who can tell? as if the words had been audibly delivered. By this, therefore, he was brought to a stand; his thoughts were arrested, and thus began to work on the passage mentioned: Who can tell (Jonah iii. 9,) viz., what God can do when he will proclaim his grace glorious? Who can tell but such an one as I may find mercy? or what will be the issue of humble prayer to heaven for it? Who can tell what purposes God will serve in my recovery? By such thoughts as these, being so far influenced as to resolve to try, it pleased God graciously to enable him, through all his doubts and fears, to throw himself by faith on Jesus Christ, as able to save to the uttermost all that come to God by him, humbly desiring and expecting mercy for his sake, to his own soul. In this he was not disappointed;
## GRATI
### 188. Gratitude to God.
Even when all else is forgotten, knowing Jesus Christ remains the believer's hope.
When the pious Bishop Beveridge was on his death-bed he did not know any of his friends or connexions. A minister with whom he had been well acquainted visited him, and when conducted into his room he said: "Bishop Beveridge, do you know me?" "Who are you?" said the bishop. Being told who the minister was, he said that he did not know him. Another friend came who had been equally well known, and accosted him in a similar manner: "Do you know me, Bishop Beveridge?" "Who are you?" said he. Being told it was one of his intimate friends, he said he did not know him. His wife then came to his bedside and asked him if he knew her. "Who are you?" said he. Being told she was his wife, he said he did not know her. "Well," said one of them, "Bishop Beveridge, do you know the Lord Jesus Christ?" "Jesus Christ?" said he, reviving as if the name had produced upon him the influence of a charm; "Oh! yes, I have known Him these forty years; precious Savior, he is my only hope!"
In death, remembering Jesus Christ brings hope and assurance of salvation.
A good old minister who died in this country in 1407, at nearly ninety years of age, had lost his recollection and been long incapable of engaging in public services. Towards the last days of his life he was removed to the house of a beloved son, where he was attended to with the most filial affection. On the evening before his death a neighboring minister visited him, but he did not know him. Being told who he was he answered: "No, I do not remember any such person." His beloved son was introduced to him; but no, he did not know him. "I do not remember that I have a son," said the good old man. In short, his memory was so impaired that he knew none of his family or friends about him. At last he was asked: "Do you not remember the Lord Jesus Christ?" On this his eyes brightened; and attempting to lift his hands in the hour of death he exclaimed: "Oh! yes; I do, I do! I remember the Lord Jesus Christ! He is my Lord and my God, by whom I hope to be saved!" May we not be assured that the gracious Redeemer of sinners will not forsake those who thus regard him with a love that even the decay of nature cannot destroy? Blessed are they that put their trust in him! Reader, hast thou done so? If not, what will be thy state when thou comest to die?
The Spirit of God provides certain assurance of future bliss like mathematical truth.
The celebrated Philip de Morney, prime minister to Henry the IVth of
France, one of the greatest statesmen, and the most exemplary Christian of his age, being asked a little before his death, if he still retained the same assured hope of future bliss, which he had so comfortably enjoyed during his illness, he made this memorable reply: "I am," said he, "as confident of it, from the incontestable evidence of the Spirit of God, as ever I was of any mathematical truth from all the demonstrations of Euclid."
True Christian love embraces brothers despite doctrinal differences and imperfections.
"Though a man," says the Rev. John Newton, "does not accord with my views of Election, yet if he give me good evidence that he is effectually called of God, he is my brother. Though he seems afraid of the doctrine of final perseverance, yet if grace enable him to persevere, he is my brother still. If he will love Jesus, I will love him whatever hard names he may be called by, and whatever incidental mistakes I may think he holds. This differing from me will not always prove him to be wrong, except I am infallible myself."
Whitfield affirms assurance of salvation for Wesley despite doubts from others.
A minister, very liberal in his reflections on Mr. Wesley and his followers, being once in company with Mr. Whitfield, expressed his doubt to him concerning Mr. Wesley's salvation, and said, "Sir, do you think when we get to heaven, we shall see Mr.
### 248. LOVE
Effectual calling is the Spirit's work convincing and enabling a sinner to embrace Christ.
The Rev. Thomas Doolittle used to catechise the members, and especially the young people of his congregation, every Lord's day. One Sabbath evening, after having received an answer in the words of the Assembly's Catechism, to the question, "What is effectual calling?" and having explained it, he proposed that the question should be answered by changing the words us and our, into me and my. Upon this proposal, a solemn silence followed; many felt its vast importance; but none had courage to answer. At length a young man rose up, and with every mark of a broken and contrite heart, by divine grace, was enabled to say, "Effectual calling is the work of God's Spirit, whereby convincing me of my sin and misery, enlightening my mind in the knowledge of Christ, and renewing my will, he did persuade and enable me to embrace Jesus Christ, freely offered me in the gospel." The scene was truly affecting. The proposal of that question had commanded unusual solemnity. The rising up of the young man had created high expectations, and the answer being accompanied with proofs of unfeigned piety and modesty, the congregation was bathed in tears. This young man had been convicted by being catechised, and to his honor, Mr. D. says, "From being an ignorant and wicked youth, he had become an intelligent professor to God's glory, and my much comfort."
Rev. Newton never forgot he was a sinner and Christ was his Savior.
Rev. Mr. Newton, when his memory was nearly gone, used to say, that forget what he might, he never forgot two things,—1st. That he was a great sinner,—2d. That Jesus Christ was a great Savior. Two most important subjects of recollection.
A dying boy confidently expected heaven because his heart was drawn there by the Spirit.
The Rev. John Griffin, of Portsea, England, gave the following account of the death of one of his Sunday scholars, in the year 1813. His mother at first had opposed his going to the school, but afterwards determined to go and hear what was taught there, and by this means was converted to God. Not long after this, her son, about eleven years of age, was brought to his death-bed, and was visited by his ministers and teachers.
The first time I asked if he expected to go to heaven; "I do," was the reply. I asked him, "Why do you expect to go to heaven? All that 'be do not go there, do they? and why then do you think you shall go to heaven?" He replied, "I hope I shall go there, because I love the employment of the heavenly. I think I shall be happy in praising God, and serving him without sin; and I think I shall go to heaven, because I delight in the society of heaven; I shall rejoice in the presence of a holy God, and holy angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect." He paused, and I asked if he had any other reason. He replied, "I hope I shall go to heaven, because my heart is already there; and I do not think the Spirit of God would have drawn my heart to him, and made me delight in holiness and his service, if he had not intended to take me to heaven." I asked him if he had always thought in this way.
"No, no," said he; "I was once a naughty and wicked boy, but by attending the Sunday school I have learned this: but I hope I have learned it from a better Teacher than our Sunday school teachers. I think I have learned it from the Spirit of God."
### BENEFITS OF SABBATH SCHOOLS TO PARENTS, ETC.
396. Moral Benefits.
Wilkinson confessed his sinfulness and relied solely on God’s mercy for salvation.
When the venerable Mr. Wilkinson had reached nearly the close of his life, he said to a relative who came to visit him, and who attempted to cheer him by referring to his Christian character, "Ah, you cannot see my heart. It has always been my endeavor not only to abstain from evil, but from all appearance of evil—but I would be jealous of my own heart. The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? Well, I must do as I have ten thousand times before under such feelings, cast myself entirely on the mercy of God. 'God be merciful to me a sinner'—the vilest of sinners! and, after all I have received, a most ungrateful sinner! I shall never get beyond that prayer."
Whitfield's silent death illustrates the assurance of salvation in final moments.
In the last visit but one which Whitfield paid to America, he spent a day or two at Princeton, under the roof of Dr. Finley, then President of the College at that place. At dinner, the Dr. said, "Mr. W., I hope it will be very long before you will be called home; but when that event shall arrive, I shall be glad to hear the noble testimony you will
# 123. DEBTS ON M
