A Sermon Delivered on Sabbath Morning, August 26, 1855, by
the
Rev. C.H. SPURGEON
At New Park Street Chapel, Southwark.
"Moreover the law entered, that the offence might abound. But where sin abounded, grace did much more abound."—Romans 5:20.
There is no point upon which men make greater mistakes than
upon the relation which exists between the law and the gospel. Some men put the
law instead of the gospel: others put the gospel instead of the law; some modify
the law and the gospel, and preach neither law nor gospel: and others entirely
abrogate the law, by bringing in the gospel. Many there are who think that the
law is the gospel, and who teach that men by good works of benevolence, honesty,
righteousness, and sobriety, may be saved. Such men do err. On the other hand,
many teach that the gospel is a law; that it has certain commands in it, by
obedience to which, men are meritoriously saved; such men err from the truth,
and understand it not. A certain class maintain that the law and the gospel are
mixed, and that partly by observance of the law, and partly by God's grace, men
are saved. These men understand not the truth, and are false teachers. This
morning I shall attempt—God helping me to show you what is the design of the
law, and then what is the end of the gospel. The coming of the law is explained
in regard to its objects: "Moreover the law entered, that the offence might
abound." Then comes the mission of the gospel: "But where sin abounded, grace
did much more abound."
I shall consider this text in two senses this morning. First, as it respects
the world at large and the entrance of the law into it; and then afterwards,
as respecting the heart of the convinced sinner, and the entrance of the law
into the conscience.
I. First, we shall speak of the text as CONCERNING THE WORLD.
The object of God in sending the law into the world was
"that the offence might abound." But then comes the gospel, for "where sin
abounded, grace did much more abound." First, then, in reference to the entire
world, God sent the law into the world "that the offence might abound."
There was sin in the world long before God sent the law. God gave his law that
the offence might seem to be an offence; ay, and that the offence might abound
exceedingly more than it could have done without its coming. There was sin long
before Sinai smoked; long ere the mountain trembled beneath the weight of Deity,
and the dread trumpet sounded exceeding loud and long, there had been
transgression. And where that law has never been heard, in heathen countries
where that word has never gone forth, yet there is sin,—because, though men
cannot sin against the law which they have never seen, yet they can all rebel
against the light of nature, against the dictates of conscience, and against
that traditional remembrance of right and wrong, which has followed mankind from
the place where God created them. All men, in every land, have consciences, and
therefore all men can sin. The ignorant Hottentot, who has never heard anything
of a God, has just so much of the light of nature, that in the things that are
outwardly good or bad he will discern the difference; and though he foolishly
bows down to stocks and stones, he has a judgment which, if he used it, would
teach him better. If he chose to use his talents, he might know there is a God;
for the Apostle, when speaking of men who have only the light of nature, plainly
declares that "the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal
power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse." Romans 1:20. Without a
divine revelation men can sin, and sin exceedingly—conscience, nature,
tradition, and reason, being each of them, sufficient to condemn them for their
violated commandments. The law makes no one a sinner; all men are such in Adam,
and were so practically before its introduction. It entered that "the offence
might abound." Now this seems a very terrible thought at first sight, and
many ministers would have shirked this text altogether. But when I find a verse
I do not understand, I usually think it is a text I should study; and I
try to seek it out before my heavenly Father, and then when he has opened it to
my soul, I reckon it my duty to communicate it to you, with the holy aid of the
Spirit. "The law entered that the offence might abound." I will attempt to show
you how the law makes offenses "abound."
1. First of all, the law tells us that many things are sins which we
should never have thought to be so if it had not been for the additional light.
Even with the light of nature, and the light of conscience, and the light of
tradition, there are some things we should never have believed to be sins had we
not been taught so by the law. Now, what man by light of conscience, would keep
holy the Sabbath-day—suppose he never read the Bible, and never heard of it? If
he lived in a South Sea island he might know there was a God, but not by any
possibility could he find out that the seventh part of his time should be set
apart to that God. We find that there are certain festivals and feasts among
heathens, and that they set apart days in honour of their fancied gods; but I
should like to know where they could discover that there was a certain
seventh day to be set apart to God, to spend the time in his house of
prayer. How could they, unless indeed, tradition may have handed down the fact
of the original consecration of that day by the creating Jehovah. I cannot
conceive it possible that either conscience or reason could have taught them
such a command as this: Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. Six days shalt
thou labour, and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord
thy God, in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor they daughter,
thy manservant, nor they maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is
within thy gates. Moreover, if in the term "law" we comprehend the ceremonial
ritual, we can plainly see that many things, in appearance quite indifferent,
were by it constituted sins. The eating of animals that do not chew the cud and
divide the hoof, the wearing of linsey-woolsey, the sitting on a bed polluted by
a leper—with a thousand other things, all seem to have no sin in them, but the
law made them into sins, and so made the offence to abound.
2. It is a fact which you can verify by looking at the working of your
own mind, that law has a tendency to make men rebel. Human nature rises
against restraint. I had not known lust except the law had said, "Thou shalt not
covet." The depravity of man is excited to rebellion by the promulgation of
laws. So evil are we, that we conceive at once the desire to commit an act,
simply because it is forbidden. Children, we all know, as a rule, will always
desire what they may not have, and if forbidden to touch anything, will either
do so when an opportunity serves, or will long to be able to do so. The same
tendency any student of human nature can discern in man-kind at large. Is then
the law chargeable with my sin? God forbid. "But sin, taking occasion by the
commandment, wrought in me all manner of concupiscence. For sin taking occasion
by the commandment deceived me, and by it slew me." Romans 7:7,8,11. The law is
holy, and just, and good, it is not faulty, but sin uses it as an
occasion of offence, and rebels when it ought to obey. Augustine placed the
truth in a clear light when he wrote—"The law is not in fault, but our evil and
wicked nature; even as a heap of lime is still and quiet until water be poured
thereon, but then it begins to smoke and burn, not from the fault of the water,
but from the nature and kind of the lime which will not endure it." Thus, you
see, this is a second sense in which the entrance of the law causes the offence
to abound.
3. Yet again, the law increases the sinfulness of sin, by removing all
excuse of ignorance. Until men know the law, their crimes have at least a
palliation of partial ignorance, but when the code of rules is spread before
them, their offenses become greater, since they are committed against light and
knowledge. He who sins against conscience shall be condemned; of how much sorer
punishment shall he be thought worthy who despises the voice of Jehovah, defies
his sacred sovereignty, and willfully tramples on his commands. The more light
the greater guilt—the law affords that light, and so causes us to become double
offenders. Oh, ye nations of the earth who have heard the law of Jehovah, your
sin is increased, and your offence abounds.
Methinks I hear some say, "How unwise it must have been that a law should come
to make these things abound!" Does it not, at first sight, seem very harsh that
the great author of the world should give us a law which will not justify, but
indirectly cause our condemnation to be greater? Does it not seem to be a thing
which a gracious God would not reveal, but would have withheld? But, know ye,
"that the foolishness of God is wiser than men;" and understand ye that there is
a gracious purpose even here. Natural men dream that by a strict performance of
duty they shall obtain favor, but God saith thus: "I will show them their folly
by proclaiming a law so high that they will despair of attaining unto it. They
think that works will be sufficient to save them. They think falsely, and they
will be ruined by their mistake. I will send them a law so terrible in its
censures, so unflinching it its demands, that they cannot possibly obey it, and
they will be driven even to desperation, and come and accept my mercy through
Jesus Christ. They cannot be saved by the law—not by the law of nature. As it
is, they have sinned against it. But yet, I know, they have foolishly hoped to
keep my law, and think by works of the law they may be justified; whereas I have
said, 'By the works of the law no flesh living can be justified;' therefore I
will write a law—it shall be a black and heavy one—a burden which they cannot
carry; and then they will turn away and say, 'I will not attempt to perform it;
I will ask my Saviour to bear it for me.'" Imagine a case—Some young men are
about to go to sea, where I foresee they will meet with a storm. Suppose you put
me in a position where I may cause a tempest before the other shall arise. Well,
by the time the natural storm comes on, those young men will be a long way out
at sea, and they will be wrecked and ruined before they can put back and be
safe. But what do I? Why, when they are just at the mouth of the river, I send a
storm, putting them in the greatest danger, and precipitating them ashore, so
that they are saved. Thus did God. He sends a law which shows them the roughness
of the journey. The tempest of law compels them to put back to the harbour of
free grace, and saves them from a most terrible destruction, which would
otherwise overwhelm them. The law never came to save men. It never was its
intention at all. It came on purpose to make the evidence complete that
salvation by works is impossible, and thus to drive the elect of God to rely
wholly on the finished salvation of the gospel. Now, just to illustrate my
meaning, let me describe it by one more figure. You all remember those high
mountains called the Alps. Well, it would be a great mercy if those Alps were a
little higher. It would have been, at all events, for Napoleon's soldiers when
he led his large army over, and caused thousands to perish in crossing. Now, if
it could have been possible to pile another Alps on their summit, and make them
higher than the Himalaya, would not the increased difficulty have deterred him
from his enterprise, and so have adverted the destruction of thousands? Napoleon
demanded, "Is it possible?" "Barely possible," was the reply. "Avancez,"
cried Buonaparte; and the host were soon toiling up the mountain side. Now, by
the light of nature, it does seem possible for us to go over this
mountain of works, but all men would have perished in the attempt, the path even
of this lower hill being too narrow for mortal footsteps. God, therefore, puts
another law, like a mountain, on the top; and now the sinner says, "I cannot
climb over that. It is a task beyond Herculean might. I see before me a narrow
pass, called the pass of Jesus Christ's mercy—the pass of the cross—methinks I
will wend my way thither." But if it had not been that the mountain was too high
for him, he would have gone climbing up, and climbing up, until he sank into
some chasm, or was lost under some mighty avalanche, or in some other way
perished eternally. But the law comes that the whole world might see the
impossibility of being saved by works.
Let us turn to the more pleasing part of the subject—the superabundance of
grace. Having bewailed the devastations and injurious deeds of sin, it
delights our hearts to be assured that "grace did much more abound."
1. Grace excels sin in the numbers it brings beneath its sway. It
is my firm belief that the number of the saved will be far greater than the
damned. It is written that in all things Jesus shall have pre-eminence; and why
is this to be left out? Can we think that Satan will have more followers than
Jesus? Oh, no; for while it is written that the redeemed are a number
that no man can number; it is not recorded that the lost are beyond
numeration. True, we know that the visible elect are ever a remnant but
then there are others to be added. Think for a moment of the army of infant
souls who are now in heaven. These all fell in Adam, but being all elect, were
all redeemed and regenerated, and were privileged to fly from the mother's
breasts to glory. Happy lot, which we who are spared might well envy. Nor let it
be forgotten that the multitudes of converts in the millennial age will very
much turn the scale. For then the world will be exceedingly populous, and a
thousand years of a reign of grace might easily suffice to overcome the majority
accumulated by sin during six thousand years of its tyranny. In that peaceful
period, when all shall know him, from the least even unto the greatest, the sons
of God shall fly as doves to their windows, and the Redeemer's family shall be
exceedingly multiplied.
What though those who have been deluded by superstition, and destroyed by lust,
must be counted by thousands—grace has still the pre-eminence. Saul has slain
his thousands, but David his ten-thousands. We admit that the number of the
damned will be immense, but we do think that the two states of infancy and
millennial glory will furnish so great a reserve of saints that Christ shall win
the day. The procession of the lost may be long; there must be thousands, and
thousands, and thousands, of those who have perished, but the greater procession
of the King of kings shall be composed of larger hosts than even these. "Where
sin abounded, grace did much more abound." The trophies of free grace
will be far more than the trophies of sin.
Yet again. Grace doth "much more abound,"—because a time shall come when
the world shall be all full of grace; whereas there has never been a period in
this world's history when it was wholly given to sin. When Adam and Eve rebelled
against God, there was still a display of grace in the world; for in the garden
at the close of the day, God said, "I will put enmity between thee and the
woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shalt bruise thy head, and thou
shall bruise his heel;" and since that first transgression, there has never been
a moment when grace has entirely lost its footing in the earth. God has always
had his servants on earth; at times they have been hidden by fifties in the
caves, but they have never been utterly cut off. Grace might be low; the stream
might be very shallow, but it has never been wholly dry. There has always been a
salt of grace in the world to counteract the power of sin. The clouds have never
been so universal as to hide the day. But the time is fast approaching when
grace shall extend all over our poor world and be universal. According to the
Bible testimony, we look for the great day when the dark cloud which has swathed
this world in darkness shall be removed, and it shall shine once more like all
its sister planets. It hath been for many a long year clouded and veiled by sin
and corruption; but the last fire shall consume its rags and sackcloth. After
that fire, the world in righteousness shall shine. The huge molten mass now
slumbering in the bowels of our common mother shall furnish the means of purity.
Palaces, and crowns, and peoples, and empires, are all to be melted down; and
after like a plague-house, the present creation has been burned up entirely, God
will breathe upon the heated mass, and it will cool down again. He will smile on
it as he did when he first created it, and the rivers will run down the new-made
hills, the oceans will float in new-made channels; and the world will be again
the abode of the righteous for ever and for ever. This fallen world will be
restored to its orbit; that gem which was lost from the sceptre of God shall be
set again, yea, he shall wear it as a signet about his arm. Christ died for the
world; and what he died for, he will have. He died for the whole world, and the
whole world he will have, when he has purified it and cleansed it and fitted it
for himself. "Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound;" for grace shall
be universal, whereas sin never was.
One thought more. Hath the world lost its possessions by sin? It has gained far
more by grace. True, we have been expelled a garden of delights, where peace,
love, and happiness found a glorious habitation. True, Eden is not ours, with
its luscious fruits, its blissful bowers, and its rivers flowing o'er sands of
gold, but we have through Jesus a fairer habitation. He hath made us sit
together in heavenly places—the plains of heaven exceed the fields of paradise
in the ever-new delights which they afford, while the tree of life, and the
river from the throne render the inhabitants of the celestial regions more than
emparadised. Did we lose natural life and subject ourselves to painful death by
sin? Has not grace revealed an immortality for the sake of which we are too glad
to die? Life lost in Adam is more restored in Christ. We admit that our original
robes were rent in sunder by Adam, but Jesus has clothed us with a divine
righteousness, far exceeding in value even the spotless robes of created
innocence. We mourn our low and miserable condition, through sin, but we will
rejoice at the thought, that we are now more secure than before we fell, and are
brought into closer alliance with Jesus than our standing could have procured
us. O Jesus! thou hast won us an inheritance more wide than our sin has ever
lavished. Thy grace has overtopped our sins. "Grace doth much more abound."
II. Now we come to the second part of the subject, and that is THE ENTRANCE OF THE LAW INTO THE HEART.
We have to deal carefully when we come to deal with
internal things; it is not easy to talk about this little thing, the heart. When
we begin to meddle with the law of their soul, many become indignant, but we do
not fear their wrath. We are going to attack the hidden man this morning. The
law entered their hearts that sin might abound, "but where sin abounded, grace
did much more abound."
1. The law causes the offence to abound by discovering sin to the
soul. When once God the Holy Ghost applies the law to the conscience, secret
sins are dragged to light, little sins are magnified to their true size, and
things apparently harmless become exceedingly sinful. Before that dread searcher
of the hearts and trier of the reins makes his entrance into the soul, it
appears righteous, just, lovely, and holy; but when he reveals the hidden evils,
the scene is changed. Offenses which were once styled peccadilloes, trifles,
freaks of youth, follies, indulgences, little slip, &c., then appear in their
true colour, as breaches of the law of God, deserving condign punishment.
John Bunyan shall explain my meaning by an extract from his famous allegory:
"Then the Interpreter took Christian by the hand and led him into a very large
parlour that was full of dust, because never swept; in which after he had
reviewed it a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when
he began to sweep, the dust became so abundantly to fly about, that Christian
had almost therewith been choked. Then said Interpreter to a damsel that stood
by, 'Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room'; the which when she had done, it
was swept and cleansed with pleasure. Then said Christian, 'What means this?'
The Interpreter answered, 'This parlour is the heart of a man that was never
sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel. The dust is his original sin and
inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep, at
first, is the law; but she that brought the water and did sprinkle it, is the
gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest that as soon as the first began to sweep, the
dust did so fly about, that the room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou
wast almost choked therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of
cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, Romans 7:9, put
strength into, 1 Corinthians 15:56, and increase it in the soul, Romans 5:20,
even as it doth discover and forbid it, for that doth not give power to subdue.
Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was
cleansed with pleasure; this is to show thee, that when the gospel comes in the
sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou
sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin
vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean, through the faith of it, and
consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit.'"
The heart is like a dark cellar, full of lizards, cockroaches, beetles, and all
kinds of reptiles and insects, which in the dark we see not, but the law takes
down the shutters and lets in the light, and so we see the evil. Thus sin
becoming apparent by the law, it is written the law makes the offence to abound.
2. Once again. The law, when it comes into the heart, shows us how
very black we are. Some of us know that we are sinners. It is very easy to
say it. The word "sinner" hath only two syllables in it, and many there be who
frequently have it on their lips, but who do not understand it. They see their
sin, but it does not appear exceedingly sinful till the law comes. We think
there is something sinful in it; but when the law comes, we detect its
abomination. Has God's holy light ever shone into your souls? Have you had the
fountains of your great depravity and evil broken up, and been wakened up
sufficiently to say, "O God! I have sinned?" Now, if you have your hearts broken
up by the law, you will find the heart is more deceitful than the devil. I can
say this of myself, I am very much afraid of mine, it is so bad. The Bible says,
"The heart is deceitful above all things." The devil is one of the things;
therefore, it is worse than the devil—"and desperately wicked." How many do we
find who are saying, "Well, I trust I have a very good heart at the bottom.
There may be a little amiss at the top, but I am very good-hearted at bottom."
If you saw some fruit on the top of a basket that was not quite good, would you
buy the basket because they told you, "Ay, but they are good at the bottom?"
"No, no," you would say, "they are sure to be best at the top, and if they are
bad there, they are sure to be rotten below." There are many people who live
queer lives, and some friends say, "He is good-hearted at bottom; he would get
drunk sometimes, but he is very good-hearted at the bottom." Ah! never believe
it. Men are seldom estimated better than they seem to be. If the outside of the
cup or platter is clean, the inside may be dirty, but if the outside is impure,
you may always be sure the inside is no better. Most of us put our goods in the
window—keep all our good things in the front, and bad things behind. Let you and
I, instead of making excuses about ourselves, about the badness of our hearts,
if the law has entered into your soul, bow down and say, "O the sin—O the
uncleanness—the blackness—the awful nature of our crimes!" "The law entered that
the offence may abound."
3. The law reveals the exceeding abundance of sin, by discovering to
us the depravity of our nature. We are all prepared to charge the serpent
with our guilt, or to insinuate that we go astray, from the force of ill
example—but the Holy Spirit dissipates these dreams by bringing the law into the
heart. Then the fountains of the great deep are broken up, the chambers of the
imagery are opened, the innate evil of the very essence of fallen man is
discovered.
The law cuts into the core of the evil, it reveals the seat of the malady, and
informs us that the leprosy lies deep within. Oh! how the man abhors himself
when he sees all his rivers of water turned into blood, and loathsomeness
creeping over all his being. He learns that sin is no flesh wound, but a stab in
the heart; he discovers that the poison has impregnated his veins, lies in his
very marrow, and hath its fountain in his inmost heart. Now he loathes himself,
and would fain be healed. Actual sin seems not half so terrible as in-bred sin,
and at the thought of what he is, he turns pale, and gives up salvation by works
as an impossibility.
4. Having thus removed the mask and shown the desperate case of the
sinner, the relentless law causes the offence to abound yet more by bringing
home the sentence of condemnation. It mounts the judgment seat, puts on the
black cap, and pronounces the sentence of death. With a harsh unpitying voice it
solemnly thunders forth the words, "Condemned already." It bids the soul prepare
its defence, knowing well that all apology has been taken away by its former
work of conviction. The sinner is therefore speechless, and the law, with
frowning looks, lifts up the veil of hell, and gives the man a glimpse of
torment. The soul feels that the sentence is just, that the punishment is not
too severe, and that mercy it has no right to expect; it stands quivering,
trembling, fainting, and intoxicated with dismay, until it falls prostrate in
utter despair. The sinner puts the rope around his own neck, arrays himself in
the attire of the condemned, and throws himself at the foot of the King's
throne, with but one thought, "I am vile"; and with one prayer, "God be merciful
to me a sinner."
5. Nor does the law cease its operations even here, for it renders the
offence yet more apparent by discovering the powerlessness occasioned by sin.
It not only condemns but it actually kills. He who once thought that he could
repent and believe at pleasure, finds in himself no power to do either the one
or the other.
When Moses smites the sinner he bruises and mangles him with the first blow, but
at a second or a third, he falls down as one dead. I myself have been in such a
condition that if heaven could have been purchased by a single prayer I should
have been damned, for I could no more pray than I could fly. Moreover, when we
are in the grave which the law has digged for us, we feel as if we did not feel,
and we grieve because we cannot grieve. The dread mountain lies upon us which
renders it impossible to stir hand or foot, and when we would cry for help our
voice refuses to obey us. In vain the minister cries, "Repent," Our hard heart
will not melt; in vain he exhorts us to believe; that faith of which he speaks
seems to be as much beyond our capacity as the creation of the universe. Ruin is
now become ruin indeed. The thundering sentence is in our ears, "CONDEMNED
ALREADY," another cry follows it, "DEAD IN TRESPASSES AND SINS," and a third,
more awful and terrible, mingles its horrible warning, "The wrath to come—the
wrath to come." In the opinion of the sinner he is now cast out as a corrupt
carcass, he expects each moment to be tormented by the worm that never dies and
to lift up his eyes in hell. Now is mercy's moment, and we turn the subject from
condemning law to abounding grace.
Listen, O heavy laden, condemned sinner, while in my Master's name, I publish
superabounding grace. Grace excels sin in its measure and efficacy.
Though your sins are many, mercy hath many pardons. Though they excel the stars,
the sands, the drops of dew in their number, one act of remission can cancel
all. Your iniquity, though a mountain, shall be cast into the midst of the sea.
Your blackness shall be washed out by the cleansing flood of your Redeemer's
gore. Mark! I said YOUR sins, and I meant to say so, for if you are now a
law-condemned sinner, I know you to be a vessel of mercy by that very sign. Oh,
hellish sinners, abandoned profligates, off-casts of society, outcasts from the
company of sinners themselves, if ye acknowledge your iniquity, here is mercy,
broad, ample, free, immense, INFINITE. Remember this O sinner,—
"If all the sins that men have done,
In will, in word, in thoughts, in deed,
Since words were made, or time began,
Were laid on one poor sinner's head.
The stream of Jesus' precious blood
Applied, removes the dreadful load."
Yet again, grace excelleth sin in another thing. Sin shows us its parent, and tells us our heart is the father of it, but grace surpasseth sin there, and shows the Author of grace—the King of kings. The law traces sin up to our heart; grace traces its own origin to God, and
"In his sacred breast I see
Eternal thoughts of love to me."
O Christian, what a blessed thing grace is, for its source is in the everlasting mountains. Sinner, if you are the vilest in the world, if God forgives you this morning, you will be able to trace your pedigree to him, for you will become one of the sons of God, and have him always for your Father. Methinks I see you a wretched criminal at the bar, and I hear mercy cry, "Discharge him!" He is pallid, halt, sick, maimed—heal him. He is of a vile race—lo, I will adopt him into my family. Sinner! God taketh thee for his son. What, though thou art poor, God says, "I will take thee to be mine for ever. Thou shalt be my heir. There is thy fair brother. In ties of blood he is one with thee—Jesus is thy actual brother!" Yet how came this change? Oh! is not that an act of mercy? "Grace did much more abound."
"Grace hath put me in the number
Of the Saviour's family."
Grace outdoes sin, for it lifts us higher than the place
from which we fell.
And again, "where sin abounded, grace did much more abound"; because the
sentence of the law may be reversed, but that of grace never can. I stand
here and feel condemned, yet, perhaps, I have a hope that I may be acquitted.
There is a dying hope of acquittal still left. But when we are justified, there
is no fear of condemnation. I cannot be condemned if I am once justified;
fully absolved I am by grace. I defy Satan to lay hands on me, if I am a
justified man. The state of justification is an unvariable one, and is
indissolubly united to glory. "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's
elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that
died, yea, rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God who
also maketh intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or
sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that
loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height,
nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of
God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Oh! poor condemned sinner, doth not
this charm thee, and make thee in love with free grace? And all this is YOURS.
Your crimes, if once blotted out, shall never be laid to your charge again. The
justification of the gospel is no Arminian sham, which may be reversed if you
should in future turn aside. No; the debt once paid, cannot be demanded
twice—the punishment, once endured, cannot again be inflicted. Saved, saved,
saved, entirely saved by divine grace, you may walk without fear the wide world
over.
And yet, once more. Just as sin makes us sick, and grievous, and sad, so does
grace make us far more joyful and free. Sin causeth one to go about with
an aching heart, till he seems as if the world would swallow him, and mountains
hang above ready to drop upon him. This is the effect of the law. The law makes
us sad; the law makes us miserable. But, poor sinner, grace removeth the evil
effects of sin upon your spirit, if thou dost believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,
thou shalt go out of this place with a sparkling eye and a light heart. Ah! well
do I remember the morning when I stepped into a little place of worship, as
miserable almost as hell could make me—being ruined and lost. I had often been
at chapels where they spoke of the law, but I heard not the gospel. I sat down
the pew a chained and imprisoned sinner; the Word of God came, and I went out
free. Though I went in miserable as hell, I went out elated and joyful. I sat
there black; I went away whiter than driven snow. God had said, "Though your
sins be as scarlet, they shall be whiter than snow." Why not this be thy lot, my
brother, if thou feelest thyself a sinner now? It is all he asks of thee, to
feel thy need of him, this thou hast, and now the blood of Jesus lies before
thee. "The law has entered that sin might abound." Thou are forgiven, only
believe it; elect, only believe it; 'tis the truth that thou are saved.
And now, lastly, poor sinner, has sin made thee unfit for heaven? Grace shall
render thee a fit companion for seraphs and the just made perfect. Thou who art
to-day lost and destroyed by sin, shalt one day find thyself with a crown upon
thy head, and a golden harp in thine hand, exalted to the throne of the Most
High. Think, O drunkard, if thou repentest, there is a crown laid up for thee in
heaven. Ye guiltiest, most lost and depraved, are ye condemned in your
conscience by the law? Then I invite you, in my Master's name, to accept pardon
through his blood. He suffered in your stead, he has atoned for your guilt and
you are acquitted. Thou art an object of his eternal affection, the law is but a
schoolmaster, to bring thee to Christ. Cast thyself on him. Fall into the arms
of saving grace. No works are required, no fitness, no righteousness, no doings.
Ye are complete in him who said, "It is finished."
"Ye debtors whom he gives to know
That you ten thousand talents owe,
When humble at his feet you fall,
Your gracious God forgives them all.
"Slaves, that have borne the heavy chain
Of sin, and hell's tyrannic reign,
To liberty assert your claim,
And urge the great Redeemer's name.
"The rich inheritance of heaven,
Your joy, your boast, is freely giv'n;
Fair Salem your arrival waits,
With golden streets, and pearly gates.
"Her blest inhabitants no more
Bondage and poverty implore!
No debt, but love immensely great;
Their joy still rises with the debt."