Page images
PDF
EPUB

haps you cannot actively engage in a missionary's toil; perhaps you have not much energy or leisure to cast into the treasury of of effort; but at least you can do this much-you can bear upon your heart, before the mercy-seat, the outcast and the profligate by whom that mercy-seat is never sought. You can call down the influence of His Holy Spirit on the labours of those whose lives are consecrated to the great evangelical work; and by the very breath you breathe before the throne, you will connect yourself with their great and sublime endeavours, and become an active worker in the vineyard of the Lord.

How much of encouragement as well as warning is there in the text for those who are occupied in the various agencies of Christian labour. Let those who have the young committed to their charge see to it that the words they speak are words of life. How does the thought of the stupendous interests involved enhance the importance of every effort that we make! Let parents think of it, and be warned to a wise circumspection. O let all our tongues be instant to unfold, directly and indirectly, the words of life. We would seek to adopt those words, in closing, now, and address them to every impenitent rebel against Sovereign love and mercy within the sound of the message. As a dying man addressing dying men, I would tell you, ere we die, how you may rise to newness of life. You are a sinner, and the wages of sin is death, and you know it. You know that death must be yours unless you crucify your sins upon the cross of Christ. You know that nothing lies before you but a fearful looking-for of judgment, unless you take the offers of redemption. You know that each breath you draw, each sun that dawns and sets, finds you so much nearer the blackness of darkness for ever, unless you accept this great salvation. Then why will you linger? Why will you hesitate? Behold now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation! As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so now we lift before you the Son of Man. Behold the Lamb of God!

See, from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingling down;

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown!

66

Those wounds were made for you—that blood was shed for you. O how often you have heard the same old story! But it must be told again. I promised to speak to you the words of life, and these are they,-"that it is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners." Our great dramatist speaks of the wounds of murdered Cæsar as 'poor, poor dumb mouths," and he makes the Roman mourner long for the eloquence of Brutus, to put a tongue in every wound, that they might speak and cry for vengeance. But is there not a tongue already in the wounds of our Immanuel which speaks another language? Do not those nailpierced hands, that mangled brow, and lacerated side speak of divine compassion, and preach salvation to a ruined world? And, my fellow-sinner, will you let them preach to you in vain? View Him prostrate in the garden,

On the ground your Saviour lies;
On the bloody tree behold Him,
Hear Him cry before He dies
"It is finished!"

Sinner! will not this suffice?

O, my friends, there is nothing so profound as the profound simplicity of the cross. You may call these plain appeals and unpretending exhortations, common-place if you please—but Life or Death are in the power of the words I speak. This sermon will either draw you nearer Heaven or drive you further from it. There is power in it, and if you will but hear it aright, it shall be the power of God to your salvation. Yes, the gospel which is preached must be either a savour of life unto life, or of death unto death. O take it as your life. Reject not the counsel of God against yourselves-for why will ye die O house of Israel! The words of Life! Yes, of life to all who will accept it-no limit to the love -no restriction in the overture. No, no, do not-O do not-let that man step in and tell you that you are not welcome. It is a lie-"an odious damned lie." Who dares to turn you back while Jesus bids you come? You

are free to come if you will-free as Gabriel is to sing, or the harpers to harp upon their harps. The innumerable company of angels unite to bid you welcome-the Father from the excellent glory looks upon His pleading Son, and as His intercessions greet His ear He bids you welcome. The Son points down to Gethsemane with its groves-and Calvary with its cross-and, claiming you as a part of the travail of His Soul, He bids you welcome. The Spirit with the healing balm distilling from His mouth-and the Bride with her lips all dewy with that Spirit's kiss, blend their inviting utterance and bid you welcome. Welcome-ye slaves and vassals of the tyrant Sin-for the Lamb has led captivity captive and received gifts for men! Welcome, ye shivering loiterers on the toilsome road-ye fearful pilgrims in the wilderness of death-the grave you dread is robbed of victory,

For the Saviour has passed through its portals before thee,
And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the gloom.

Welcome, ye tremblers under Sinai's fires, and take your shelter
under Calvary's cross, for Jesus has finished transgression and
made an end of sin, and has wrought out everlasting life. 0
accept these words of life, and `they shall become the power of
the utterance of your tongue when it is singing the song of
Moses and the Lamb amidst the minstrels of the sky. Come
now, as a sinner to your Saviour, and you shall be ushered as a
saint into the joy of your Lord. Wash now in the fountain of
your Redeemer's blood, and
you shall find that your sins, though
as scarlet, shall be as wool, and though they be red like crimson,
they shall be whiter than snow.

[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors]

Wedding Garments.

ST. George's Church, Hanover Square, London, is the scene of a great number of those gorgeous and fashionable ceremonies called "marriages in high life." A pedestrian passenger in that select locality some bright sunshiny morning, is apt to find his course impeded not a little by a long stationary line of gilded carriages, the horses covered with white favours, and the coachmen and footmen swathed in white ribbons, and swelling majestically in white stockings. So great is the display of magnificence in the matter of dress on these occasions that there is a melancholy story extant-whether true or no, of course I do not pretend to say-of a bumpkin from the country, a tailor by profession, who had made up his mind to astonish the Londoners by his notions of taste and grandeur, being so overcome by the effect of a gentleman's vest and neck-tie, as he alighted from a carriage at St. George's Church, that he immediately returned to his native village and took a dose of prussic acid. The story as I heard it first was this-that at a certain small country village there lived a certain small country tailor, but his ideas were much larger than his sphere of usefulness, and he was anxious to give them full scope. His handiwork had long been the admiration of the neighbourhood for full three miles round, and he had arrayed many a rural swain for making conquests, and for consummating these conquests at the hymeneal altar. He

« PreviousContinue »