THE

OFFICE AND WORK

OF THE

HOLY SPIRIT.

by

JAMES BUCHANAN, D.D.,

PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY, NEW COLLEGE, EDINBURGH.

First published 1843

FROM THE SIXTH EDITION.

1847.

NEW YORK:

ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET,

AND PITTSBURG, 56 MARKET STREET.

Source: https://archive.org/stream/officeandworkho02buchgoog/officeandworkho02buchgoog_djvu.txt

Formatted, corrected, and lightly modernized by

William H. Gross www.onthewing.org May 2020

Biographical Sketch

James Buchanan was born in Paisley Scotland in 1804, the son of a wine merchant. After studies in Glasgow and Edinburgh, he was ordained minister of the Church of Scotland at Roslin in 1827. He received the parish of North Leith in 1828, where he gained great fame as a preacher. In 1829 he married Elizabeth, daughter of John Cochrane, a Glasgow merchant; they had a son and a daughter before her death in May 1832. In 1836, he married Mary Morison, with whom he had a daughter. In 1840, Buchanan was called to St Giles's Church, Edinburgh. But he joined the Free Church of Scotland after its creation in the Disruption of 1843. He ministered at St Stephen's Free Church until 1845. From 1847 to 1868 he was professor of apologetics at the New College of the Free Church in Edinburgh, succeeding Thomas Chalmers as professor of systematic theology. Buchanan died in 1870.[1]

Editor’s Note

It could be said that John Owen wrote the definitive doctrinal treatment of the Holy Spirit (1674). But even modernized, his style can be dry and tedious. In the late 19th century (1882), George Smeaton wrote an outstanding shorter and more readable treatise titled, The Doctrine of the Holy Spirit. But here, James Buchanan has written perhaps the finest pastoral treatment of the Holy Spirit. It is arguably the most poetic and practical available in the English language, then or now.

Dr. Buchanan was a pastor and preacher, and not just a theologian. He was more a Baxter than an Owen; consequently, his style is eminently readable. He has taken a difficult doctrinal subject, and turned it into an engaging book, which is a delight to read. The sole exception is perhaps Chapter 8 on the Regeneration of Children, which is more polemical.

Dr. Buchanan was Scottish, and obviously loved the rhythm of the language he employed. Many writers would end a series of rhythmic phrases after two or three iterations. He tends to exceed that. If you were to read the text aloud, you couldn’t finish some of his sentences without taking a breath or two. So, on occasion (though not often), I give readers a chance to catch their breath. One long series may be broken into two shorter ones; the same is true of long paragraphs. This is done for the eye, as well as for the hearing — white space tends to aid in reading.

The text is rich with Scripture. If I provided all the references, it might get in the way of his rhythm, and interrupt the reader’s enjoyment of his prose. He assumed his readers would know their Bible, as he weaves its familiar threads together. I assume the same. Even so, I occasionally provided an extra citation to anchor his reference. The KJV that he used, is not well known to a modern audience, and the wording might otherwise be unfamiliar.

This is an edifying work, as well as a pleasure to read. I pray that you enjoy, savor, and apply it to your understanding, and to your Christian practice.

William H. Gross

May 25, 2020

Contents

PART I. The Spirit’s Work In The Conversion Of Sinners.

CHAPTER 1. The Necessity Of A Great Spiritual Change.

CHAPTER 2. A General View Of The Agency Of The Spirit.

CHAPTER 3. A General View Of The Process Of A Sinner’s Conversion.

CHAPTER 4. The Work Of The Spirit In Enlightening The Mind.

CHAPTER 5. The Work Of The Spirit In Convincing The Conscience.

AN ADDRESS TO CONVINCED SINNERS.

CHAPTER 6. The Work Of The Spirit In Renewing The Heart.

CHAPTER 7. The Result Of The Spirit’s Work In Conversion.

CHAPTER 8. The Regeneration Of Infants.

PART II. Illustrative Cases.

CHAPTER 1. The Philippian Jailer.

CHAPTER 2. The Dying Malefactor.

CHAPTER 3. Paul.

CHAPTER 4. The Ethiopian Treasurer.

CHAPTER 5. Cornelius.

CHAPTER 6. Lydia.

CHAPTER 7. Timothy.

CHAPTER 8. Conversions At Pentecost.

CHAPTER 9. Revivals.

PART III. The Work Of The Spirit In The Edification Of His People.

CHAPTER 1. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Holiness.

CHAPTER 2. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Adoption.

CHAPTER 3. The Work of the Spirit as the Spirit of Prayer.

CHAPTER 4. The Work of the Spirit as the Comforter.

PART I. The Spirit’s Work In The Conversion Of Sinners.

CHAPTER 1. The Necessity Of A Great Spiritual Change.

We have a very solemn statement on this subject from the lips of One whose personal character, as well as his official authority, may well impress our minds with a conviction of its certain and infallible truth. It comes to us from the lips of Jesus — that same Jesus who is the Saviour — the only Saviour of sinners; who pitied us in our lost estate, entered into a covenant with God on our behalf, engaged in his own person to render the price of our redemption; left the throne of heaven, and appeared as a man on earth — a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; who became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross — that same Jesus who afterwards ascended up into heaven, and sat down with his Father on his throne — to whom all power is given in heaven and on earth; who as mediatorial king, is now carrying on the administration of the scheme of grace, and will before long come in the clouds of heaven to judge the quick and the dead — that same Jesus declares (and that, too) with the solemnity of a most emphatic asseveration,[2] “Truly, truly, I SAY to you, unless a man is born again,” or born from above,[3] he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.”

And can we contemplate the character of him who speaks, and his official authority, whether as the Saviour or as the Judge of men — can we consider his love for souls, and his earnest desire for their salvation — his perfect knowledge of the plan of grace and of every provision which it contains — and his divine commission to declare the will of God, and to decide the case of every soul at the last day — without feeling that the very benevolence of his character, and his almighty power as a Saviour, impart a tremendous force to his words — when “he that is true; he that has the key of David; he that opens and no man shuts, and shuts and no man opens,” declares that the door of heaven is barred against every unregenerate man? And that, notwithstanding all that he suffered on the cross, he will himself decide, when he takes his seat on the throne, that “unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

In regard to the nature of that change which must be wrought on a sinner before he can see the kingdom of God, I will only observe at present that it is a spiritual one — spiritual in respect alike to its subject, its author, and the means by which it is accomplished: it is wrought on the soul of man by the Word and Spirit of God. The soul is the subject of this change; it is not an external reform merely, but an internal and spiritual renovation — a change of mind and heart. It takes effect on the understanding when it is enlightened — on the conscience when it is convinced — on the will when it is subdued — on the affections when they are refined and purified — on the whole man when “he is transformed by the renewing of his mind,” and “created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works.” So that, he is said to be “a new creature, in whom old things have passed away; all things have become new.”

The Spirit of God is the author of this change; the soul is born again only when it is “born of the Spirit” — for “that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” It belongs to Him to enlighten the darkened understanding, by shining into it and giving it the light of the knowledge of the glory of God; to awaken the slumbering conscience, by convincing it of sin; to subdue our rebellious wills, by “making us a willing people in the day of his power;” to take away the hard and stony hearts out of our flesh, and give us hearts of flesh;” to refine and sanctify our affections; and to “work in us all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power.”

And this spiritual change is wrought by spiritual means — for the Word of God, or the truth contained in the Word, is the instrument by which the Spirit acts. “We are born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, even by the Word of God, which lives and abides forever;” and we are saved “through sanctification of the Spirit, and belief of the truth.”

This change is often preceded by a process of instruction and conviction, and is always followed by a progressive course of sanctification. But it properly consists in our being made willing to comply with the Gospel call, by embracing Christ for salvation, and surrendering ourselves up to him to be taught, and pardoned, and governed, according to his revealed will. And as soon as it is accomplished in the experience of any sinner, his whole relation to God, his prospects for eternity, his views and feelings, his prevailing dispositions and habits, are totally changed. This occurs insomuch that he who formerly sat in darkness, is introduced into marvellous light — he who was at a distance from God, is brought near — he who was in a state of enmity, is translated into a state of peace — he who was exposed to a sentence of condemnation, is forgiven and accepted — he who was lost, is saved.

I need scarcely add that it is a great change which is spoken of here. It is a very great change which is wrought on an infant when it is born into the world — when it is introduced into a new scene, and begins to have a consciousness of its individual existence, and receives a thousand new sensations, and enters on a life of which it had no experience before. So it is with the soul, at the time when a new spiritual life is imparted to it. For when our Lord speaks of its conversion under the figure of its being “born again,” he evidently represents it as a very great change — so great as to bear some resemblance to the first commencement of conscious existence. Many other figures are employed, which are severally descriptive of one or another of its peculiar features; but all are equally significant of its greatness. It is called a renovation of the soul; or its being made new; a transformation of the soul, or its being changed into another likeness; a translating of the soul, or its being brought from one position and placed in another, and a very different one; a quickening of the soul, or its receiving a new life; a resurrection of the soul, or its being raised from the dead; a new creation of the soul, or its being created anew by him who made it; the washing of the soul, or its purification from defilement; the healing of the soul, or its being delivered from disease; the liberation of the soul, or its being emancipated from bondage; the awakening of the soul, or its being aroused out of sleep. And it is compared to the change which is wrought on the blind, when they receive their sight — on the deaf, when their hearing is restored — on the lepers, when they are cleansed — on the dead when they are raised to life. Now, of this change — so great, so spiritual, so comprehensive — the Saviour himself, who alone can save, declares, “Unless a man is born from above, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

By the kingdom of God in this verse, we are to understand, not the external dispensation of the Gospel, or the visible Church of Christ in this world (although it is sometimes used in that sense), but the spiritual and invisible kingdom of God. And the statement made here is designed to warn us that no unconverted man is a member of Christ’s spiritual Church on earth, or can by possibility obtain admission into the Church triumphant in heaven. There is peculiar emphasis in the words: it is not said that he may not, or that he shall not, but that he cannot; the IMPOSSIBILITY of any unregenerate man being admitted into heaven is declared — and that, too, is said by Him who came to throw open the door of heaven for the reception of sinners, and who holds in his own hands the keys of the kingdom!

That we may arrive at a right conclusion on any subject, two things are necessary — a sound principle and a certain fact. In the case before us, the principle which our Lord assumes, is that a man must be spiritual if he would enter into the kingdom of God. And the fact he founds it on in connection with that principle, is that by nature men are not spiritual but carnal, corrupted, and depraved. If these two things are certain, the conclusion is inevitable, that a great CHANGE is indispensably necessary; or in other words, that “unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Let us first of all consider the fact which is assumed here, and then connecting it with the principle which is also assumed, evince the necessity of a great spiritual change.

I. In thus affirming the necessity of regeneration, and the impossibility of salvation without it; our Lord proceeds on the supposition that, in our natural state, we are fallen and depraved — a supposition which is uniformly assumed in Scripture, and abundantly verified by experience and observation. It is implied in our Lord’s words; for unconverted men are there spoken of as being out of the kingdom of God,[4] and incapable of entering into it unless they are born again; and it is clearly stated in the 6th verse: “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” In this comprehensive sentence, he places in vivid contrast, the two great classes into which all men are divided in Scripture — I mean the regenerate and the unregenerate. But he does so in such a way as to intimate that all men belong naturally to the same class; and that if any have been restored, it was by their being born again. When he speaks of the flesh, he does not refer to the body, but to the soul. For although the term is sometimes used to denote our corporeal frame, as when the apostle speaks of his “living or abiding in the flesh,” it is more frequently (and always, when contradistinguished from the Spirit, as it is here), employed to denote our whole nature, as naturally fallen and yet unrenewed; as when the apostle says, “So then, those who are in the flesh cannot please God; but you are not in the flesh, but in the spirit, if the Spirit of God dwells in you.”

In this sense it corresponds to “the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts;” and to “the natural man, which does not receive the things of the Spirit of God.” And it is distinguished from the “new man, created after the likeness of God, in righteousness and true holiness.” Hence we read of “sinful flesh,” and “the fleshly mind,” of which it is said that the “carnal mind is enmity against God.” — When he says, “That which is born of the flesh is flesh,” he intimates that every human being, as he is born of the flesh or of fallen parents, is himself flesh, fallen, corrupted, and depraved; this is his natural state, his state as he is born, and in which he remains until he is born again. So that every man, without any exception, may say with David, “Behold I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin my mother conceived me.” And when he adds, “that which is born of the Spirit is spirit,” he indeed intimates that there are now two classes of men in the world — the one natural, the other spiritual — the one regenerate, the other unregenerate. This does not arise from any original difference, and still less from any spontaneous separation; but from a change which has been wrought on some, while the rest remain as they were — a change which is directly ascribed to the regenerating grace of the Spirit of God. But naturally all belong to the same class and partake of the same character. And although there may be, and doubtless are, manifold diversities of disposition, and innumerable degrees of guilt among unconverted men, yet in the one point — the only one of essential importance — “there is no difference, for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’’

Such is the supposition on which our Lord’s statement rests — the supposition of the universally fallen and corrupted state of human nature. And if we really believed this truth — if we received it in its full scriptural import, and in its application to our own souls individually — we would have little difficulty in perceiving the necessity of a great spiritual change, and the impossibility of our being saved without being born again. But this doctrine of natural depravity, although uniformly assumed in the Bible, and frequently asserted in express terms, and abundantly verified by the experience of our own hearts as well as by the universal history of the world, is so offensive and alarming to every unconverted man, that he is prone, if not to deny its general truth, at least to mitigate and soften its meaning, in so far as it applies to his own case. And hence, many a one who admits it in general terms, because he cannot decently deny that he is a sinner, shows by his whole spirit and conversation, that he has no idea of what is implied in this confession, and no heartfelt conviction that he needs to be born again. He admits that he has some imperfections — some natural frailties, some human infirmities; he may even charge himself with a few occasional delinquencies — with the omission, or careless discharge of duty, and perhaps with certain acts of positive transgression. But while he admits his imperfection to this extent, he is unwilling to believe that he is so utterly fallen as to be unable to restore himself, or to stand in need of so great a change as is implied in being “born again!” Hence, when his conscience is impressed at any time, he thinks of nothing beyond a mere outward reformation, a little more attention to duty, a little more circumspection in his ordinary conduct. And thus “cleansing the outside of the cup and platter,” he looks for acceptance with God, and admission into His kingdom — even though no change has been wrought inwardly, none that, even in his own estimation, can correspond with or deserve to be called a new spiritual birth. If any such person reads these lines, it would be a very solemn reflection for them, that the Lord Jesus, when he spoke to a self-righteous Pharisee, a master in Israel, took no account of his exterior decency, but insisted on the necessity of his being born again. And that, too, was in terms declare that this necessity is alike absolute and universal; there is no man of whom it is not true, that he must be converted, or condemned.

If you imagine, then, that you may enter into the kingdom in some other way, and that you have no need to undergo that great preparatory change, I beseech you to remember that the Lord Jesus is of a different mind — that he makes no exception on your behalf, but affirms without qualification or reserve, that “unless A MAN is born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” That solemn statement rests on the fact of our universal depravity. Even if it were more difficult than it is to discover the grounds and reasons on which it is founded — such a declaration, coming from Him who is at once[5] the only Saviour and the unerring Judge, should impress our minds with the conviction that the matter is finally settled and determined by an authority which no power in heaven or on earth can challenge or resist. His authority in this matter is supreme, and one distinct statement of his will, should be received as a final and irreversible decision; but the same testimony is often repeated, and in great variety of language. At one time he tells you, “Unless you repent, you shall all likewise perish;” at another, “If you do not believe, you shall die in your sins;” at a third, “Unless you are converted, and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of God.” But in his words to Nicodemus, there is a remarkable peculiarity. He does not merely declare that no unregenerate man shall be admitted; he affirms that he CANNOT, that it is impossible for him to be admitted. And it is to the grounds on which this impossibility is affirmed, that I now proceed to speak.

II. In the Scriptures, we read of some things that are impossible with men, but which are not impossible with God; and of other things that are impossible both with God and man. Some things that are impossible with men, are possible with God. The angel referred to these when he said to Mary, “With God nothing shall be impossible;” and our Lord himself said to the disciples, “With God all things are possible.” But while, in respect to any mere natural difficulty, God’s Almighty power is more than sufficient to overcome it, there are certain things which may be said to be impossible with God himself — not from any defect of power on his part, but from their repugnance to his essential attributes, and their opposition to his unchangeable will. Hence we read that “it is impossible for God to lie,” that he “cannot deny himself,” and that “without faith it is impossible to please him” — the things supposed are in their own nature contrary to the essential character of God, so that he cannot be as he is — he must cease to be God, before these things can come to pass. It will be found that the salvation of an unregenerate man belongs to this class of moral impossibilities.

There is a very remarkable difference between the statement of our Lord to Nicodemus, and the deliverance which he pronounced on another case of great difficulty. In reference to rich men, and the difficulty of their entrance into the kingdom — when the young man mentioned in the Gospel “went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions’’ — the Lord said, “I say to you, that a rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven: and again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” But when the disciples asked, “Who then can be saved?” he answered, “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible,’’ — thereby intimating that, although naturally impossible, because of the manifold obstructions with which a rich man has to contend, it was not impossible for Him to remove these obstructions; nor was it in any way inconsistent with his character, to put forth his power for that end. And accordingly, although “not many rich and not many noble are called,” yet some in every age have been converted, and made signal monuments of the efficacy of His grace. But mark the difference when he speaks of an unregenerate man. He doesn’t say that his entrance into the kingdom, although impossible with men, is possible with God; but he pronounces absolutely, that remaining in that condition, he cannot see the kingdom of God. He thereby represents it as one of those things which are impossible with God himself, and which would be alike inconsistent with His declared will, opposed to the essential perfections of his nature, and subversive of the unchangeable principles of his government. It is possible, indeed — oh! it is very possible — that an unconverted man may be converted; that an unregenerate man may be renewed — for this, so far from being opposed to God’s will, or character, or government, is in unison with them all; and it is a fit object for the interposition of his grace and power. But that a sinner remaining unconverted should be saved — that a man “born of the flesh” should enter the kingdom without being “born again” of the Spirit — this is an impossibility; and it must be so, so long as God is God.

That it is so, will appear from the following considerations.

1. No unregenerate man can see the kingdom of God, because it is impossible for God himself to do what implies a manifest contradiction; and there is a manifest contradiction in the idea that a fleshly mind can, without any radical change of character, become a subject of God’s spiritual kingdom. The expression used here to denote the state of safety and happiness into which God brings his people, is deeply significant and instructive. It is not spoken of, you will observe, as a state of mere safety — mere exemption from punishment, or immunity from wrath — but as a kingdom — a kingdom in which they are safe because they are protected by his almighty power; and happy, because they are cherished by his infinite love — but still a kingdom in which, besides being safe and happy, they are placed under rule and government, and expected to yield submission and service as his obedient subjects. And so is it with everyone who really enters that kingdom, whether on earth or in heaven. He cannot so much as enter into the outer sanctuary here, and far less can he obtain admission into the holy place there, without laying down at its threshold the weapons of rebellion, and returning to his allegiance and duty. There is indeed an external kingdom of grace in which many an unregenerate man may be placed; but the true spiritual kingdom is “not in word, but in power.” “The kingdom of God,” says Christ himself, “is within you;” and, says the apostle, “The kingdom of God is not food and drink, but righteousness and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.” It mainly consists in setting up God’s throne in the sinner’s heart, subduing his will to God’s authority, and winning over his affections to God’s service. And to say that any man remaining in an unregenerate state can be a member of that kingdom, would be to affirm that he might, at one and the same time, be both an alien and a citizen — a friend and an enemy — alive and dead. Everyone must see that if when God saves men, he brings them into his kingdom, and places them under his own holy government, it is impossible in the very nature of things, for them to enter it without undergoing a great change. And in this light, there is a self-evident truth and certainty in the words of our Lord, “Unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

2. No unregenerate man can see the kingdom of God, because it is impossible for God to lie; and he has expressly said — no, he has sworn — that we must be converted or condemned. “The word of the Lord endures forever.” “Heaven and earth may pass away, but not one jot or tittle of that word shall fail.” “God is not a man that he should repent. Has he said, and shall he not do it? Has he spoken, and shall he not make it good?”

It is very true that we read in Scripture of many occasions on which His “repentings were kindled together,’’ [6] and he refrained from the execution of his threatened judgments. But if we consider these cases we will find that they are perfectly consistent with the general doctrine that he can neither change, nor lie, nor repent, so as to leave his word unfulfilled, or to depart from the principles of his righteous government — that they afford no ground of hope to an unconverted sinner, that he may enter into the kingdom without being born again. God is said to repent when, in consequence of the repentance of his people, his dispensations towards them are changed. But this change in his dealings is only a consistent and suitable manifestation of the unchangeable and eternal principles on which he conducts his holy administration. Thus, when Rehoboam ‘‘forsook the law of the Lord, and all Israel with him,” the king of Egypt was sent up to Jerusalem with his army to chasten them. And “the Lord said,

“You have forsaken me; therefore I have also left you in the hand of Shishak. Whereupon the princes of Israel, and the king humbled themselves, and they said. The Lord is righteous. And when the Lord saw that they humbled themselves, the word of the Lord came to Shemaiah, saying, They have humbled themselves, therefore I will not destroy them; but I will grant them some deliverance.’’

Again, when wicked Ahab — of whom it is said, “There was none like Ahab, who sold himself to work wickedness in the sight of the Lord” — tore his clothes, and put sackcloth on his flesh, and fasted, and lay in sackcloth, and went about softly. The word of the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying, “See how Ahab humbles himself before me; because he humbles himself before me, I will not bring the evil in his days.” And when the Ninevites repented at the preaching of Jonah, and proclaimed a fast, saying, “Who can tell if God will turn and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish?” “God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way, and God repented of the evil that he had said he would do to them, and he did not do it.”

These, and many other instances which might be mentioned, are so many proofs of the precious doctrine that under the scheme of grace and redemption, it is perfectly consistent with the truth and faithfulness of God, and the unchangeable principles of his government, to refrain from the infliction of threatened judgments, when “the sinner forsakes his way, and returns to the Lord.’’ But they afford no evidence that a man may be saved without being changed, or that God’s threatenings against the impenitent will not be carried into effect. He will repent of the evil only when we repent of the sin. For otherwise, He must falsify his word, and act in direct violation of those eternal principles “which make it “impossible for God to lie.”

3. No unregenerate man can see the kingdom of God, because it is impossible for God to “deny himself,” or to act in manifest opposition to the infinite perfections of his own nature, in order to save those from suffering, who obstinately remain in a state of sin. “If you do not believe,” says the apostle, “God abides faithful; he cannot deny himself.” Even if God’s determination in this matter were purely arbitrary, yet being framed by his omniscient wisdom, sanctioned by his supreme authority, supported by his almighty power, and declared by his unchangeable truth, it should command our reverential attention. But it is not arbitrary. It flows, like every other part of his counsel or procedure, from the essential and immutable attributes of his divine nature. There are some things that cannot be otherwise while God is God — and this is one of them: he cannot admit an unregenerate man into his kingdom. For this would be to “deny himself,” and to act in direct opposition to every principle which regulates his procedure as the Governor of the world. The supposition that a sinful man may enter into his kingdom without being born again, implies that God must deny himself in three respects — that he must rescind the law of his moral government — that he must depart from his declared design in the scheme of redemption itself; and — that he must reverse the moral constitution of man — or in other words, alter the whole character of his kingdom.

That a spiritual character is indispensably necessary in order to our being admitted into the kingdom of God, may be inferred from the general laws of his moral government. In one sense, all men, however rebellious, and even devils themselves, are subjects of God’s kingdom — that is, they are under his government, as being bound to obey his authority, and responsible to him as their Judge. That we are under a system of government, is the intuitive conviction of every thinking mind. We feel that we are subject to checks and restraints which are imposed upon us by some external authority, and which are altogether independent of our own will. Thus, although free to act according to our own choice, we cannot alter the constitution under which we live, nor emancipate ourselves from the control of law, nor escape or avert the consequences of our own conduct. That the system of government under which we are placed is essentially a moral one, appears alike from the evidence of our own consciousness, and from our experience and observation of the world at large. There is a mysterious law written on the tablet of our own hearts, which reveals God as a Lawgiver and a Judge; and our whole experience bears witness to the inseparable connection which He has established between sin and misery on the one hand, and holiness and happiness on the other. This is the general constitution of God’s government; and the wicked are not exempted from that government. On the contrary, its reality is evinced by the very experience of those who most resolutely resist it — just as rebels, when they are punished for their crimes, are still treated as subjects, and become the most signal monuments of public justice.

When our Lord speaks of the “kingdom of God,” he does not refer to the moral government which is common to all men; but to that kingdom of grace and glory into which it is his will to gather into one, all his redeemed people — a kingdom in which every subject should alike be safe and happy, being delivered from all evil, and defended by his almighty power. He speaks of the state into which, as the Saviour, he brings his people — a state of perfect safety and peace. But still, you will observe that he speaks of it as “a kingdom,” indeed, as “the kingdom of God.” And this implies that while in other respects it differs from the universal kingdom — which comprehends the righteous and the wicked, the fallen and the unfallen, and extends alike to heaven, earth, and hell, — it agrees with it in this: that it implies a system of discipline and government, administered by God himself, according to those rules and principles which are consistent with the perfections of his nature, and sanctioned by his unchangeable will. He is represented as the head of this new kingdom, and his people as his subjects there. And although our Lord does not refer to God’s general government, but to this new kingdom of grace and glory, we may infer from his language, that this kingdom will bear some resemblance to the former, in so far at least, as to have a moral constitution, one that will make a holy Character essential to the enjoyment of its privileges. It must be so indeed, unless that kingdom is designed to supersede, or rather to reverse the whole moral constitution of the world — to introduce another and opposite system which would take no account of character in the distribution of happiness — and to secure exemption from suffering without effecting any deliverance from sin. How far this corresponds with God’s actual design as it is revealed in the Gospel, will be considered in the sequel. But meanwhile, there are two considerations that I would merely suggest as affording a strong presumption that Christ’s kingdom cannot materially differ in this respect from the general government of God: —

The first is that this government is not an arbitrary constitution arising, like the Jewish ritual, from his mere will, and capable of being abrogated, like that and every other positive ordinance. But it is a constitution which, as it derives its authority from his supreme will, is itself derived from the essential and unchangeable perfections of his nature. So that, unless God himself were to change, or the relation between God and his creatures were to cease, the leading principles of that government must remain the same under every successive dispensation.

And the second is that it is a government not confined to men, but comprehensive of all orders of his intelligent creatures — applicable to all who are capable of knowing God and serving him; and extending to angels and seraphim, to whose society his people are to be united in the kingdom of glory. So that, unless the redeemed are to be governed by a different law, it is absolutely necessary that they be spiritual and holy, as the angels are in heaven. From these two considerations, it is manifest that in setting up a new kingdom, God would adhere to those great principles which are involved in his universal moral government. And from its fundamental laws, we may infer with certainty that, just as those who are saved are said to be brought into a kingdom (indeed, into the very kingdom of God), they must be endued with a holy character.

That a spiritual character is indispensably necessary to be admitted into the kingdom of God, appears from his declared design in the scheme of redemption itself. So far from being intended to reverse or supersede the moral government of God, or to release us from the operation of those laws which connect sin with suffering, the scheme of redemption was designed to secure our happiness by restoring us to a state of holy conformity to God’s will. Its design in relation to the law is declared when our Lord himself said, “Do not think that I have come to destroy the law: I have not come to destroy but to fulfil;” and the apostle, “Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid. Indeed, we establish the law.” And its design in relation to ourselves is intimated, when we read that it was alike the purpose of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, to deliver us from sin as well as from suffering, and to restore us to the image as well as to the favour of God. I solicit your attention to the declared purpose of each of the Three Persons in the Godhead, in that scheme of grace and redemption which is the only provision that has been made, or ever will be made, for your salvation.

The design of God the Father is thus expressed: “God has from the beginning chosen you to salvation through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth, to which He called you by our Gospel, to obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.” And the design of Christ the Saviour is thus declared: “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; that he might present it to himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.” — “He gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify for himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.” And the design of the Holy Spirit is not only implied in his very office, as the Renewer and Sanctifier of God’s people, and evinced by the whole scope and tendency of the Word — which is the Spirit’s message, and a declaration of his will — but it is expressly declared when it is said, “When he comes, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment;” and that he will “guide his people into all truth,’’ so as to fulfil the Lord’s prayer on their behalf: “Sanctify them through your truth, your Word is truth.”

From these passages it is manifest that in the scheme of redemption itself, God proceeds on the principle that a spiritual character is indispensably necessary to our admission into his kingdom. The very salvation which he has provided is spiritual; it includes various blessings of unspeakable value, such as the pardon of sin, peace of conscience, assurance of God’s love, exemption from hell, and admission into heaven. But these blessings, so necessary to our safety, and so conducive to our happiness, are inseparably connected — by God’s appointment as well as in their own nature — with a new spiritual character. And they cannot be enjoyed without it — for the promise runs in these terms:

“Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean. From all your filthiness, and from all your idols, I will cleanse you. I will also give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and you shall keep my judgments, and do them. And you shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers; and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.”

If such is God’s design in the scheme of redemption — the declared design of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit — then how can you expect to be saved without undergoing a great spiritual change? If you hope to be saved without being born again, your hope must rest either on the supposition that you are not naturally fallen and depraved, or on the idea that a holy and spiritual character is not indispensably necessary to your admission into the kingdom. Your hope must be built on one or the other of these two suppositions if you expect salvation without a change of heart. For if the fact is certain, that you are naturally fallen and depraved, and if the principle is correct, that “without holiness no man can see the Lord,” then the absolute necessity of regeneration is at once established. Now, on whichever of these two suppositions you may take your stand, there is enough in God’s declared design in the work of redemption to convince you that they are alike both false and dangerous.

For if, on the one hand, you flatter yourselves that you are not so utterly fallen as to require to be renewed, or so as to be unable to effect your own restoration, then shouldn’t your fond confidence in this opinion be shaken when you find that in the scheme which God himself has revealed for the recovery of men, he proceeds uniformly on the contrary supposition? — and when He makes provision for their regeneration by his own Spirit, and speaks to all in the same language, as sinners who have fallen and need to be restored?

And if, on the other hand, you flatter yourselves that, although you may be partially sinful, you may yet enter into the kingdom without undergoing any great spiritual change, then oh! shouldn’t this presumptuous expectation be utterly extirpated and destroyed when you find that it is in direct opposition to God’s whole design, and cannot be fulfilled without subverting the scheme of grace? For what does your expectation imply? Doesn’t it imply that God will depart from his purpose of saving sinners “through sanctification by the Spirit,” and save them without being sanctified — thereby reversing the constitution of the scheme of grace, and violating the principle on which it is based? In other words, doesn’t it imply that God must set aside the great scheme of redemption — a scheme on which he has already exercised all the riches of his omniscient wisdom, and expended the blood of his Son? That immutable wisdom, and inflexible justice, and unfailing truth, must all bend and bow down before the sinner, and allow him to enter into the kingdom unrenewed! And don’t you see that the whole design of God in the redemption of the world must be abandoned before your hope can be fulfilled?

Doesn’t it imply that the Saviour himself must relinquish the object which he had in view when “he came to save his people from their sins;” that he must adopt a new design, and throw open the door of his kingdom to the unholy and the unclean? It isn’t open to the unholy so that they may be renewed, nor to the unclean so that they may be washed. For in that sense, the door is always open, and open for all. But it would be open to those who seek to remain in their natural state, “dead in trespasses and in sins;” and that he must assume a new character as the Saviour of those who refuse the only salvation he has yet procured, and who are “neither washed, nor sanctified, nor justified by the Spirit of God.”

And doesn’t it imply that the Holy Spirit must relinquish his offices as the Sanctifier and Comforter of his people — or that his functions and operations are unnecessary and superfluous? For why is he revealed as the “Spirit that quickens,” if there is no need of a new birth? — or as the Spirit of Sanctification, if you can enter into the kingdom without sanctification? — or as the Comforter of the Church? Can it be, that He is to comfort men while they continue in their natural state, and to pour his blessed consolations into unsanctified hearts, and to make them happy while they remain unholy?

All this, and much more, is implied in the presumptuous expectation that any of us can enter into the kingdom without undergoing a great spiritual change. It implies that the scheme of redemption itself must be changed; and that too, would be after it has been accomplished by the incarnation, and sufferings, and death of God’s own Son. For that scheme proceeds from first to last on the supposition that we are fallen, and that we must be renewed if we would enter into the kingdom. That a spiritual character is indispensably necessary to be admitted into the kingdom of God, appears from the actual constitution of our own nature, which is essentially a moral one. And it renders it impossible for us to enjoy heaven, even if we were admitted to it, unless our character is brought into conformity with the will of God. We have already seen that the general government of God is a moral government, and that a holy character must be necessary in his kingdom, so long as God is God. We now add, for the purpose of evincing the certainty of this great truth, that the constitution of our own nature is essentially a moral constitution, and that a holy character must be essential to our happiness, so long as man is man. The principles of our own nature, the very constitution of our being, must be reversed before we could be happy in God’s kingdom without a holy and spiritual character. Let me advert to some of these principles. And by viewing them in connection with the character of God’s kingdom, you will at once perceive that we must be holy if we would be happy there.

It is a principle of our nature — a law indelibly written on the tablets of our hearts, and by which everyone feels that he is a law unto himself — that our character must be brought into conformity with our conscience; otherwise happiness is impossible. Conscience is God’s vicegerent in the soul — a secret minister within — which marks the difference between good and evil, and approves of the one but condemns the other. And while it responds to the unseen Lawgiver, it acts sometimes as an accuser, preferring a charge — sometimes as a judge, pronouncing a verdict — sometimes as an executioner, carrying judgment into effect. And though it slumbers and sleeps, it still awakens with greater strength, and is always present, so that we cannot flee from it — go where we will, we must carry it along with us. And as a part of our imperishable nature, it will survive death itself, and appear with us at the judgment-seat, and remain with us in eternity.

Now, sin and the conscience are opposed to one another. And where both meet in the same bosom, there is a fearful conflict — sin struggling against conscience, and seeking to stifle it — conscience protesting against sin, and appealing to the justice of God. This fearful conflict is, and must be, destructive of happiness. “There is no peace for the wicked,: says my God; for “the wicked are like a raging sea when it cannot rest.” One or the other, therefore — either sin or the sinner’s conscience — must be destroyed before his happiness can be secured. As we cannot get rid of conscience, we must get rid of sin. Sin is the disease of our moral nature; conscience is a part of its constitution; and we must not expect that God will alter the structure of our being in order to make us happy without being renewed. Conscience cannot be destroyed, but sin may; and it must be destroyed if you would enter into God’s kingdom.

It is a principle of our nature, that in order for happiness, there must be some correspondence between the tastes, the dispositions, and the habits of a man, and the scene in which he is placed — the society with which he mingles, and the services in which he is employed. A coward on the field of battle; a profligate in the house of prayer; a giddy worldling standing by a deathbed; a drunkard in the company of holy men — feel instinctively that they are misplaced; they have no enjoyment there. Now, suppose the scene is “the kingdom of God” — a kingdom which is described as consisting in “righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost” — and that an unregenerate man were translated into God’s immediate presence, and placed among the society and engaged in the services of the upper sanctuary — oh! if he were not thoroughly changed at the instant when he crossed its threshold, can you conceive that it is possible for him to be happy there? Well, then, either our characters must become holy, or the whole style and nature of God’s kingdom must be changed. We must be raised to a state of fitness for heaven, or heaven must be lowered and accommodated to our carnal tastes. The latter is impossible for God’s kingdom must be holy; and if we would enter into the kingdom, we must be holy too.

From the considerations which have been adduced — from the general laws of God’s moral government, from his declared design in the work of redemption, and from the actual constitution of our own nature — it must be evident that a spiritual and holy character is indispensably necessary for our entrance into his kingdom. And this principle, thus firmly established, is sufficient to demonstrate the necessity of regeneration, and the impossibility of salvation without it, in the case of all who are naturally fallen or infected with sin. If there are any who can justly plead exemption from this necessity, they are only those who can truly say they are naturally unfallen and spiritual and holy, and are thus fit for the kingdom of God. But the Bible proceeds on the supposition that there are none such on earth — that “all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” And I believe that every conscience will do the preacher’s work, by convincing you of this great truth, provided only that the conscience is duly instructed in the things of the kingdom of God. If the spiritual nature of that kingdom, and the holy character of God, and the awful [7] sanctity of his government, and his real design in the work of redemption — if these things are clearly discerned by any man’s conscience, as they stand revealed in the light of God’s Word, then he will intuitively perceive, and instinctively feel, that he must be changed or lost — that he must be born anew if he would see the kingdom of God.

We learn, however, from the case of Nicodemus, that the doctrine of regeneration is apt to excite surprise and even incredulity, not only in the ignorant and profligate who make no profession of religion, but in many who belong nominally to the Church of God — those who are strict and scrupulous in their attention to its forms, and to a certain extent, conscientious in acting according to their convictions of duty. The man with whom our Lord held this conversation was a Pharisee. He belonged to a sect which is elsewhere declared as “the strictest sect of the law,” and described as “believing themselves to be righteous, and despising others.” He was a “ruler of the Jews and a master in Israel;” and as such, he was recognized as fit to teach and direct others in matters of faith and duty. And he seems to have been so far impressed by our Lord’s ministry, as to be willing to inquire after the truth. For if his coming to Jesus under the cloud of night is a proof that he was still influenced in some degree by the fear of man, then his coming at all — and especially his coming with such a confession as this upon his lips, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher sent from God; for no man can do those miracles which you do, unless God is with him” — it must be considered (if his position in society, his party connections, and his Jewish prejudices are taken into account) as a sufficient proof that he was in some measure impressed, and he desired to obtain further information. Yet even this man, this conscientious Pharisee, this master in Israel, this timid but honest inquirer, no sooner heard the doctrine of regeneration — and that, too, from the lips of one whom he acknowledged as a teacher sent from God — than he exclaimed, “How can a man be born when he is old?” And when it was further explained to him, and its absolute necessity declared, he still answered and said, “How can these things be?” The chief reason for his incredulity was doubtless that he had no perception of the spirituality and extent of God’s law, and no inward and experiential conviction of his own sinfulness — none at least that impressed him with a sense of the necessity of any great change, in order to qualify him for the kingdom of God. And the lack of any heartfelt conviction of its necessity left his mind open to the full impression of those little difficulties as to the mode or manner of its production, which often occur to those who merely speculate on the subject. But these soon vanish and disappear when the conscience is awakened, and the heart is impressed by the great reality itself.

Perceiving that his mind was perplexing itself with these difficulties, and disposed to question the truth — merely because he could not understand the manner in which so great a change could be wrought — our Lord first of all suggested to him a beautiful analogy. It was to show that there were many things whose reality could not be doubted, even though the mode of their operation, and the many circumstances connected with them, could not be explained. He selected the wind — the vital air by which natural life itself is sustained. Though it is invisible, it is known to us from its effects. He reminded him that while its operation as an agent in nature was undoubted, there were many circumstances connected with its operation which were shrouded in impenetrable mystery. He left him to infer that if it were so with that wind, which is essential to the natural life of man, then it was not unreasonable to believe that his spiritual life might be produced and sustained by an agency equally real and efficacious — even though, like the former, it was also invisible and mysterious. And while he seeks in this way to remove the ground of his incredulity (which was the supposed impossibility of such a change), he at the same time brings before him, and presses on his consideration, another impossibility as real as the former one was imaginary — which is the impossibility of an unregenerate man entering into the kingdom of God. His mind was occupying itself with speculative difficulties as to the way in which so great a change could be wrought. But our Lord tells him that if there is a difficulty on the one hand, there is a much greater difficulty on the other — and that it is not so impossible that a man should be born again, as it is that without being born again, he should enter into the kingdom of God.

It is in this way that we would still deal with the difficulties and objections which are founded on the alleged mysteriousness of the work of the Spirit. We would first of all remind you that there are many realities which you know and believe, in spite of the difficulty of explaining every circumstance concerning them. And then we would press the great reality of it on your attention, and show that however mysterious the nature and mode of the new birth may be, there is no mystery and no doubt either as to the fact that you are fallen, nor as to the principle that a spiritual character is indispensable to being members of God’s spiritual kingdom. And from these two considerations combined, it follows with demonstrable certainty, that “unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

I believe that in most cases, the difficulty of convincing men of the necessity of regeneration, arises out of the lack of a right scriptural apprehension of the fact that they are fallen, and corrupted, and depraved. For if they really believed the doctrine of human depravity in its full extent, and in its application to their own souls — if they were experientially convinced of the guilt and demerit of sin, and of their own sinfulness and danger in the sight of God — then their own consciences would intuitively discern their need of some great change in order to enter into his kingdom. A solid work of conviction would, in such cases, be the most effectual argument for the necessity of regeneration. But perhaps this conviction may be wrought in their consciences, simply by unfolding and applying the principle which our Lord assumes — namely, that a man must be spiritual if he would be a member of God’s kingdom. For this principle is evident from the very nature of that kingdom. And every mind which is rightly instructed in regard to it, and which is duly impressed with its spiritual character, its unalterable laws, and its essential and pervading sanctity, must intuitively discern his own unfitness to enjoy it, by the evidence of his own consciousness, and in the light of his own experience. For just as one vivid view of God in his true character was enough to draw from the lips of Job that humble confession, “I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now that my eye sees you, I therefore abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes;” — and just as a view of the glory of Christ had a similar effect on the apostle when “he fell at his feet as if dead;” — so may we expect that a correct apprehension of the kingdom of God, and of its awful and unchangeable sanctity, will be accompanied with a profound sense of our own unworthiness, and a conviction that we must undergo some great change before we can be qualified to enjoy, or be permitted to enter it

Let me beseech you individually to weigh well this solemn statement of the Lord, and to consider it in its application to your own souls. You cannot fail to see that he speaks of a very great change, since he compares it to your “being born again” — of a very necessary change, since without it you cannot see the kingdom of God. And when you hear such a statement from the lips of one who is himself the only Saviour of sinners, and who will, before long, appear as the Judge of all, you cannot fail to be convinced that it is alike your duty and your interest to apply it to your own case, and to improve [i.e., employ] it for your own salvation.

I am aware that some, when they read of the new birth of the soul, contrive to evade the truth which Christ declares, by saying that his words are figurative. On this principle they explain away a great part of the Word of God. With them everything is figurative. We have a figurative fall, a figurative curse, a figurative atonement, a figurative Saviour, a figurative regeneration, a figurative heaven, a figurative hell — in fact, a figurative Gospel. But grant that figurative language is employed in this, as it is on many other subjects — grant that metaphors are used to give us a lively apprehension of its nature — I say, figurative language has a meaning. Indeed, it is employed on purpose to enhance the meaning of plainer words. What then, is the meaning of this figure — what is the reality which this metaphor describes? Doesn’t it mean some change — some great change — some great change of mind and heart — a change that has some resemblance to a birth, a resurrection, a creation? Why were these figures employed, if not to declare the magnitude of that change, whose necessity is affirmed with a decision and a peremptory plainness which leaves no room for doubt?

CHAPTER 2. A General View Of The Agency Of The Spirit.

The first thought that will occur to every reflecting mind, in perusing our Lord’s address to his disciples immediately before his departure, is that the work of the Spirit is, in its own place, as needful and as important as the work of Christ himself. We are too apt, in modern times, to overlook the necessity, or to underrate the value of the Spirit’s grace. We talk much of the Saviour, but little of the Sanctifier. Yet a consideration of the words which Christ addressed to his disciples in the immediate prospect of his leaving them, should teach us that the agency of the Spirit is so essential and so important, that his advent would more than compensate for the departure of the Saviour. “It is expedient for you,” says our Lord, “that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.” (John 16.7) When the disciples heard their Lord utter the first clause of this verse, “It is expedient for you that I go away,” with what wonder they must have listened, and how anxiously must they have waited to hear the reason that could be given for so startling an intimation! Had they been left to their own reflections, and had they consulted together as to what would have been the severest trial they could be called to sustain — the heaviest blow which could be inflicted on their cause — the most dangerous and disastrous event which it was possible for them to conceive — would they not with one consent have agreed in declaring that it would be the departure of their blessed Lord? When it was announced to them, Jesus himself saw the withering effect which it produced on their minds, and he refers to it when he says, “Because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts.”

And no wonder that they were thus dejected at the prospect of losing the personal presence of Him who was their kindest friend, their unwearied benefactor, their patient teacher — whose wisdom was their guide, his power their defence, his sympathy their consolation, his approval their reward, and his salvation their highest hope. They were attached to him as a personal friend, by the strongest ties of gratitude, and admiration, and love. They had long associated with him on terms of the most endearing intimacy; they had often looked with delight on his benignant countenance, “full of grace and truth;” they had listened to his public preaching and his private conversation, when “he spoke as never man spoke.” They had witnessed his miracles of mercy, and his life of unwearied beneficence, “when he went about continually doing good.” And they had themselves received at his hands every benefit which Divine love, combined with the most perfect human kindness, could bestow. And can we deem it any wonder if the thought of parting with such a friend — whose appearance, and voice, and person were entwined with their fondest affections — filled their hearts with unusual sadness?

But they looked to him in a far higher character. They considered him not merely as their personal friend and benefactor, but as the Messiah that had been promised to the fathers — the hope and consolation of Israel — the Saviour of the world. They knew that he had come on a great public mission, to introduce a new order of things, and to found a kingdom which would never be moved. And although their views of the nature and design of that kingdom were, as yet, defective or even erroneous in many respects, they knew enough to convince them that it was a great, an arduous, and a difficult enterprise which Christ came to accomplish — that they were destined to be his agents in carrying it on, and that in this capacity they must be exposed to great defamation and opposition, and even to persecution and death itself. For with that same faithfulness which characterised all his intercourse with them, he had himself told them, “The time comes that whoever kills you will think he does God a service.” Still, these prospects, appalling as they were, might have been braved, and these difficulties surmounted, and these trials endured by the little band of his devoted followers, had they still been called, as before, to follow Christ’s person, and to share with him a common danger. They might have persevered with courage and hope, looking to His wisdom to direct, and his miraculous power to defend them. But now, at this very point when the object of his mission seemed to be unaccomplished, and when the cloud was thickening around them, and danger lowered over their path, they were to be deprived of their Counsellor, and Protector, and Friend.

He was about to leave them and the world in which they dwelt, and to return to his Father in heaven. And therefore, fearing that they would be “as sheep without a shepherd in the midst of wolves” — “sorrow filled their hearts.” With what feelings of surprise, then, must they have heard their Lord say, “It is expedient for you that I go away?” With what eager curiosity they must have expected an explanation of the reason which would reconcile them to so great, and in their estimation, so irreparable a loss? And when he gave the reason — when he said, “It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you,” must they not have been impressed with the conviction that the office and work of the Holy Spirit, in their Lord’s estimation, is as needful for the establishment and maintenance of his kingdom on earth, as his own office and work had been? And shouldn’t we also feel that we grievously err from Christ’s teaching if we overlook the necessity, or undervalue the operations of that Divine agent, whose advent Christ himself declared to be an ample compensation, and more than a compensation for the loss of his visible presence with the Church? For what higher testimony could be given to the necessity and value of the Spirit’s agency, than what is implied in the words of Christ, “It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you”?

We learn from the same words, that the gift of the Spirit was purposely reserved till after the exaltation of Christ, and it was then to be dispensed by him, as the fruit of his purchase, the gift of his grace, and the proof and manifestation of his reward. We are not to suppose, indeed, that when our Lord said, “If I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you,” he meant to intimate that the Church till then, had been altogether destitute of the Spirit’s grace, or that the disciples to whom he spoke had not yet experienced the benefits of His ordinary influence. We know that long before — not merely before the departure, but before the very advent of Christ — the Spirit’s grace had been granted under the Old Testament dispensation; and that every believer from the beginning has been enlightened, and sanctified, and comforted by His spiritual power. David frequently refers to the Spirit as the author of light, and instruction, and comfort to his own soul: “Do not cast me not away from your presence; do not take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joys of your salvation; and uphold me with your free Spirit.’’ To the Jewish Church at large, the Eternal Wisdom of God had said, “Turn at my reproof; behold, I will pour out my Spirit upon you, I will make known my words to you.” And in regard to the apostles, Christ himself had said to Peter, “Blessed are you, Simon Barjona; for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but the Father who is in heaven.” And again, “you know him; for he dwells with you, and shall be in you.” But when he says, “If I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you,” he refers to some remarkable manifestation of the Spirit’s grace and power, and represents it as being purposely deferred till after his departure. Just as the advent of Christ was the great promise of the Old Testament, so the advent of the Spirit is the great promise of the New. And just as Christ had executed his offices as prophet, priest, and king before his manifestation in the flesh, but in the fulness of times, had a signal coming — so the Spirit, though given before, “must have a coming in state, in a solemn and visible manner, accompanied with sensible effects,” [8] as in the appearance of a dove, and in the resemblance of cloven tongues.

This remarkable effusion of the Spirit had been predicted before in ancient prophecy. And we read both the prediction and its fulfilment in the Acts of the Apostles (ch. 2.):

“When the day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind; and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them cloven tongues, like fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.” And Peter, standing up, said, “This is what was spoken by the prophet Joel: And it shall come to pass in the last days (says God), I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.”

That this is the manifestation of the Spirit to which our Lord referred in his conversation with his disciples, appears from the references he made to it on other occasions. After his resurrection, and immediately before his ascension to glory, he said to the apostles, “Behold I send the promise of my Father upon you: but wait in the city of Jerusalem, until you are endued with power from on high.” “And being assembled together with them, he commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Father, which,” he says, “you have heard from me. For John truly baptized with water; but you will be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days from now.” And “you will receive power after the Holy Ghost has come upon you; and you will be witnesses to me.” (Luk 24.49; Act 1.4, 8).

From these passages we learn that there was to be a remarkable effusion of the Spirit after our Lord’s departure, and that it was purposely deferred, and reserved as a proof and token of his exaltation to the right hand of God. It is expressly said, “The Holy Ghost was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified,” (Joh 7.39) — so that, for some reason or other, this manifestation was purposely deferred till Christ’s humiliation had closed, and his exaltation commenced. And I think it is very clearly intimated that the gift of the Spirit was reserved as the crowning evidence — as the appropriate and peculiar proof of the completion of his work, of its acceptance on the part of God, of its efficacy on behalf of his people, of his having earned and obtained the reward which had been promised, and of his being invested with all power in heaven and on earth to carry into full effect his great design as the Redeemer of the world. Every other fact in his history, every other step in his progress, had its appropriate proof. His incarnation was celebrated by angels — his baptism was accompanied with a voice from heaven — his miracles were witnessed by thousands — his death, burial, and resurrection were attested by eyewitnesses. When he arose and appeared among his disciples, they saw and spoke with him; and after a time he led them to Bethany — “And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them.” They beheld him while he was taken up; but “a cloud received him out of their sight.” No human eye could penetrate that cloud — they could not follow him as he entered heaven and took his seat at God’s right hand. But before he ascended, he had mentioned the gift of the Spirit as the appointed sign and proof of his exaltation — a token of his power when he appeared in heaven. And oh! surely it was fitting that some such singular evidence should be furnished about a fact which no human witness could attest, but on which the certainty of our salvation depends! For Christ’s exaltation is the proof of the completeness of his work, of its acceptance by his Father, and of the hopes of all his people.

And if his exaltation was to be evinced and certified by the gift of the Holy Ghost — if this was the appointed and pre-signified proof of that glorious truth, then it is to be regarded as the fruit and token of the Redeemer’s triumph, and as a pledge that every other blessing which he died to purchase, has been won, and will be given to all who believe in his name. When we consider the subject in this light, we may discern the divine wisdom of that arrangement to which our Lord referred when he said, “If I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.” And see how, when the Spirit actually descended according to his promise, the apostles must have regarded it as a proof that Christ was exalted. And if exalted, then his mission was divine, his redemption complete, his righteousness accepted, his reward bestowed, and his mediatorial authority established. So that, when Christ ascended, and the Spirit descended, they might exultingly exclaim, “you have ascended on high; you have led captivity captive; you have received gifts for men, even for the rebellious.” And turning to the unbelieving Jews, they could say, “This Jesus God has raised up, of which we are all witnesses. Therefore, being exalted to the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, he has shed forth this, which you now see and hear. Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God has made that same Jesus, whom you have crucified, both Lord and Christ.”

In the conversation which he held with his disciples, our Lord gives a comprehensive account of the nature and design of the Spirit’s work.

It is represented as being designed for two very distinct ends, and for two widely different classes of men. It is designed for the conviction of the world, and for the confirmation and comfort of the Church. The world is spoken of, and also a peculiar people who have been separated from the world: “He will reprove or convict the world;” but he “will guide you into all truth.” Unbelievers will be convicted by his coming, but believers will be confirmed and edified: “He shall glorify me, for he will receive of mine, and show it to you.’’ So that the gift of the Spirit is designed to have an important influence both on the WORLD and the CHURCH.

In reference to both classes — CHRIST, in his person, and offices, and work, as the Redeemer, is the one great subject which the gift of the Spirit is designed to illustrate — in other words, the Spirit is CHRIST’S WITNESS on earth, affording such evidence of his divine mission and mediatorial authority as is sufficient to convict, if not serve to convince, unbelievers; and glorifying Christ by unfolding to his disciples, and enabling them to discern, such views of his glory as will serve to confirm them in the faith, and attach them more closely to his service and cause.

Let us briefly consider the work of the Spirit in reference to each of these two classes of men — believers and unbelievers, or the world and the Church. Of the former it is said,

“And when he comes, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: of sin, because they do not believe in me; of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and you will see me no more; of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged.” (Joh 16.8-11.)

The word which is here translated reprove,[9] has no exact synonym in our language; and it is difficult to find a term which, like that in the original, is equally applicable to each of the three subjects to which it is applied here. The word reprove applies well enough to sin, but not so well to righteousness and judgment; while the word convince, which is used in the margin, is ordinarily employed to denote more than is ascribed here to the work of the Spirit, as it implies an actual effect in the way of satisfying the judgment and securing the assent; whereas the original word does not necessarily import any such effect. There is no doubt, however, as to the meaning of the expression. It signifies to prove upon or against — to convict by proof: or in other words, to present such evidence as will be sufficient to condemn, if it fails to convince. And that we may understand how the Spirit may be said to convict the world of or concerning sin, righteousness, and judgment, we should consider separately the subject, the doctrine, and the proof, as they are severally intimated in our Lord’s words.

The subject on which the gift of the Spirit is designed and fitted to shed a clear and convincing light, is the character and offices of Christ: “He was despised and rejected by men.” Many among the Jews disbelieved his claims when he professed to be the Messiah that had been promised to their fathers; and they considered him ‘‘a deceiver of the people.” Now, on this subject, when the Spirit descended, he was to teach three great lessons:

He was to convict the world of sin, because they did not believe in Christ — by demonstrating that the one whom they rejected as a deceiver, was indeed what he professed to be; and by giving such a proof of his divine mission, that it would involve them in aggravated guilt should they continue to resist, or deny, or question his claims.

He was to convict the world concerning righteousness — by which I understand the righteousness of Christ, declaring him to be a righteous person, whom the Jews had condemned as a malefactor; and not only righteous in his own private character, but in his official relation as the Redeemer of his people — “the very end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes.”

And he was to convict the world of judgment — of judgment in general, as evinced by the whole work of redemption; but more particularly, of the judgment that had been executed on Satan, the head of the great apostacy, when He who was the “seed of the woman, bruised the serpent’s head;” and when He who ascended on high “led captivity captive,” and “spoiled [disarmed] principalities and powers, and made a show of them openly, triumphing over them in his cross.”

These three lessons or doctrines have reference to one and the same great subject — which is Christ himself. And they are all taught by one and the same Spirit, and evinced by the same kind of proof. The proof in each instance is furnished by the Spirit — by his mere descent, as well as by the revelation which he made. In the circumstances, the mere fact of the Spirit’s advent after our Lord’s ascension was sufficient of itself, and apart from any new communication of truth, to prove against the world, each of the doctrines or lessons to which I already referred. It was sufficient to convict the world of the sin of unbelief, since it proved that Christ, whom they rejected, was the Anointed of God — to convict the world of his perfect righteousness, since it proved that Christ, whom they condemned, was accepted as righteous with God — and to convict the world of judgment, since it proved that Christ, whom they had unjustly doomed to die, had been constituted Judge of all, and had executed judgment on the prince of the world himself. So that, the mere fact of the Spirit’s descent after Christ’s ascension, when viewed in connection with his prediction and promise, was of itself a demonstrative proof of his character and office as the Lord’s Anointed. And as such, it was sufficient to convict, if not convince — to condemn, if not convert — those who did not believe in his name.

It may appear, at first sight, to be somewhat difficult to connect the proof with the doctrine, or to see the bearing of the one on the other as they are stated here. But a little reflection will serve to convince you that, in reality, no demonstration could be more cogent or more conclusive, than what is afforded by the gift of the ‘Spirit, in favour of the mediatorial character and offices of the Lord Jesus Christ. For let us only realize the fact as it is set forth in the New Testament; let us bear in mind that, before leaving his disciples, the Lord Jesus had intimated to them that after his ascension to glory, and as a fruit and effect of his exaltation, he would send down upon them the Holy Spirit, and they would be endued with power from on high. And recollecting this prediction or promise, let us place ourselves in their situation, and endeavour to conceive what must have been their convictions and feelings when that promise was fulfilled: — oh! when they heard the sound of the mighty rushing wind, and when they saw the cloven tongues, like fire, resting on every forehead; and when they felt themselves inwardly moved by a new power; and when they began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance — who can doubt that, in that solemn hour, it would be the first recollection of every disciple, that the Lord had spoken of this. And it would be the innermost conviction of every mind, that Jesus was indeed exalted — that Jesus was none other than the righteous one — that Jesus was now both Lord and Christ!

And what the effect of this manifestation must have been on the minds of unbelievers themselves, we may conceive from the sacred narrative. It is said not only that, “they were all amazed and marvelled, saying, Are not all these who speak, Galileans? And how do we hear every man in our own tongue, in which we were born?” — but also that when Peter explained to them the prophecy which predicted such an effusion of the Spirit, and connected it with the ascension and exaltation of that same Jesus whom they had crucified, they instinctively felt the force of those very considerations which our Lord states. They felt at once that this miraculous manifestation of the Spirit was a sufficient proof that Christ was exalted; and if exalted, then righteous; and if he was righteous, then they were sinful in disbelieving and rejecting him — and accordingly “they were pricked in their hearts, and exclaimed, Men and brethren, what shall we do?” Christ’s exaltation, of which the gift of the Spirit was the predicted proof, is sufficient, when duly realized, to carry home the conviction “of sin, and righteousness, and judgment.” For it was just a vivid view of Christ in his exaltation that disarmed Saul the persecutor, and changed him into a zealous preacher of the Cross. These examples may suffice to show that the gift of the Spirit is fitted to convict the world by the proof which it affords of Christ’s exaltation and of his mediatorial power; to convict the world of “their sin, because they do not believe in him; of his righteousness, because he has gone to the Father; and of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged.”

In reference, again, to God’s people, or the Church which he has gathered out of the world, the gift of the Spirit was designed for their instruction, edification, and comfort. Christ said to his disciples, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. However, when the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.” “He will glorify me; for he will receive of mine, and show it to you.”

The apostles were to be qualified by the gifts of the Spirit for exercising the office with which the Lord had invested them — for preaching the Gospel among all nations, and for putting the precious truths of God on record, for the instruction of the Church in every age. They received the gift of tongues on the day of Pentecost, which enabled them to address every man in the language in which he was born. And Christ’s promise bore that, along with the gift of tongues, they would obtain such assistance as was needful for recalling the truth to their recollection, and completing the scheme of revelation. The New Testament consists partly of a narrative; and the Spirit was promised in these terms — “He shall bring all things to your remembrance, whatever I have said to you,” It is partly doctrinal, and the Spirit was promised in these terms — “He shall teach you all things, he shall guide you into all truth.” It is partly prophetic, and the Spirit was promised in these terms — “He will show you things to come.” The apostles completed the Gospel, and thus was fulfilled the Lord’s intimation: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. However, when the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.”

But it was not only the apostles — all the private members of the Church, and all believers without exception, had an interest in the gift of the Spirit. They were not all inspired, nor were they all endued with miraculous gifts; but they were all partakers of his renewing and sanctifying grace. And our Lord refers to this inward and spiritual work on the soul, as one of the fruits of the Spirit which they would receive. Accordingly, we read that on the day of Pentecost there was not only an effusion of miraculous gifts, but also a copious effusion of converting and saving grace: three thousand souls were at once translated out of darkness into marvellous light. We are too apt, in reading the account of this marvellous event, to confine our attention to the miraculous gifts which were then conferred, and to think more of the inspiration by which the apostles were enabled to speak with tongues, than of the renewing, converting, and sanctifying grace which accompanied their preaching, and which turned so many from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. The former manifestation was more striking to the eye of sense; but the latter is in itself unspeakably more important. The one was a means, an evidence, a sign; and the other was the efficient cause of every conversion. And this latter is the ordinary, permanent, and everlasting work of the Spirit in the Church of Christ.

If it is asked how far we are still concerned in the intimation which our Lord made to his apostles of the advent and work of the Spirit after he would leave them — I answer that, from various other passages of Scripture, we learn that we are now placed under a dispensation which is called emphatically “the ministration of the Spirit,” under which His people in all nations and ages are left to the Spirit’s teaching in the absence of their risen Lord. This is the last, the complete, the crowning dispensation of the scheme of grace. It is true that there are now no miraculous gifts of the Spirit; but the Spirit is still Christ’s witness in the world, and Christ’s agent in the Church. He has given a testimony that is sufficient, even in these modern times, to convict the world of sin, and righteousness, and judgment. And He still acts as the Teacher, the Quickener, the Sanctifier, and the Comforter of the Church, “guiding his people into all truth,” and glorifying Christ by receiving of his, and “showing it to them.”

In considering the character of the Gospel dispensation, it is of paramount importance to mark the distinction which is drawn in Scripture between the external manifestation of the Spirit on the one hand, and his internal operations on the other — and to remember that the “ministration of the Spirit” includes both. Of the former it is said, “The manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit with;” that is, the external exhibition of the Spirit in his miraculous gifts — for the apostle particularly alludes to these, which is evident from the succeeding verses. This was designed and fitted to qualify those on whom such gifts were conferred for public usefulness, both in the way of convincing the world, and edifying the Church. Of the latter, it is said that “he dwells in us” — that he “walks in us” — that “he works in us both to will and to do” — that “he works in us all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power.” In fact (as we will have occasion to show), the exercise of every spiritual grace, and the enjoyment of every spiritual blessing, is ascribed to the direct internal operation of the Spirit on our souls.[10]

That the ministration of the Spirit in the apostolic age, included both the external manifestation and the internal operation described above, cannot be seriously questioned by any candid reader of the New Testament. And that it still does so is evident, not only from the fact that the dispensation of the Gospel is expressly called, by way of eminence, “the ministration of the Spirit” — without any hint being given of any of his essential operations being withdrawn from the Church — but also from the promise of Christ, which is only fulfilled (1) by the presence of his Spirit — “Lo! I am with you always, even to the end of the world;” and (2) from the method in which the Bible appeals both to the world and the Church, on the subject of the Spirit’s witness and the Spirit’s agency. It is true that the miraculous gifts of the Spirit have been withdrawn; but there is still a “manifestation of the Spirit” notwithstanding; and it is such a manifestation as is sufficient to convict the world, as well as to edify the Church. For the Bible — an inspired record in a complete and perfect form — is the Spirit’s testimony. It is the Spirit’s witness for Christ in the world, which more powerfully than any miraculous gift, signals God as its author, and carries with it such evidence as amounts to “the demonstration of the Spirit.” The is such that, as in hearing prophecy of old, so in reading the Bible now, an unbeliever may be “convinced by all and judged by all — the secrets of his heart are made manifest, and he may be led to worship God, and to feel that God is truly in it.” (1Cor 14.24-25)

Besides the Bible, there is still in this world THE CHURCH, which is the visible body of Christ — a body of which Christ is the head, and the Holy Ghost is its quickening and pervading Spirit. And by its visible presence, and wonderful preservation in the world, as well as by its public testimony, the Church is a signal witness for Christ More particularly, the Holy Spirit still raises up and qualifies men for the work of the holy ministry in the Church, enduing them with such gifts and graces as are needful for them in the various spheres of labour to which they are called.[11] And there is still another manifestation of the Spirit— the living epistles, which are known and read by all men — who “are manifestly declared to be the epistles of Christ, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not in tablets of stone, but in fleshly tables of the heart.” And if, in addition to these objective manifestations [12] of the Spirit, we consider his subjective operations — both in his common influences on the minds of unbelievers, against which “they strive,” and in his saving influences on the hearts of his people — we will discover ample reason for believing that the dispensation of the Gospel is still as really “the ministration of the Spirit” as it was in the age of the apostles.

The general view which has been presented of the office and work of the Holy Spirit, suggests many practical reflections of great value. Of these I will only mention the two following: It teaches us how defective and erroneous the views of the Gospel must be, which are entertained by those — whether among the ministers or members of the Christian Church — who exclude from their creed, the doctrine of the Spirit’s agency; or at all events, habitually overlook its necessity, and neither pray for nor expect His interposition. That any Christian minister, acting under a dispensation which is expressly called the “ministration of the Spirit,” should be jealous of that doctrine which constitutes the very strength of his ministry, and that too, when he is himself described as “one who ministers the Spirit” — that he should regard the active agency of the Spirit in the Church as a foolish or fanatical notion, when Christ himself declared that the presence of the Spirit there would more than compensate for his personal departure — and that he should treat with ridicule and scorn what constitutes the very substance of Christ’s promise, the subject of every believer’s prayers, and the object of the Church’s hope and expectation — well, such views and feelings indicate a lamentable ignorance, not of one doctrine only, but of the whole scheme and constitution of the Gospel. And none can wonder that his ministry is not blessed, when he slights the Spirit, who alone can render it effectual.[13]

The view which has been given of the office and work of the Spirit, should also be an instructive lesson to those hearers of the Word who imagine that they are in a less favourable situation now, than the earlier followers of Christ were. Such men complain that there is now no supernatural manifestation — no visible miracle — no convincing sign of Christ’s presence and power in his Church. And they are apt to think that had they been permitted to see Jesus the Lord, to hear his voice, and to witness his wonderful works, they would certainly have believed. Now, not to insist on the fact that multitudes who did see the Lord in person, who followed him from village to village, and heard his discourses, and saw his miracles, were not only not convinced, but were hardened in unbelief and exasperated [14] into enmity.

I wish you to observe that even his chosen disciples, who accompanied him for years, were distinctly told that their future condition would be not worse, but better, when Christ left them, and the Spirit descended. And doesn’t this imply that the grace of the Spirit was of more importance to the Church, than the personal presence of Christ himself — that it was more than sufficient to compensate for his departure? And what more could be said to convince you of your error, if now, under the final and perfect dispensation of the Gospel, and under “the very ministration of the Spirit,” you remain in a state of unbelief? It is true that you have no miracles; but you have the Spirit’s testimony in your hands; and if “you do not believe Moses and the prophets,” or Christ, and his evangelists and apostles, then “neither would you believe though one rose from the dead.”

For, consider seriously the distinction which is so strongly marked in Scripture between the miraculous gifts and the internal graces of the Spirit; and ask yourselves which of the two is more valuable? That they are quite distinct, is evident from the fact that they might exist separate and apart from each other. Many in primitive times were renewed and sanctified by the Spirit’s grace, who were not endued with miraculous powers. And some, again, were endued with his miraculous gifts, who were not made partakers of his saving grace. This appears from the case of Saul under the Old Testament, who was endued with the gift of prophecy, while his heart was unrenewed — from the case of Judas under the New — and still more from the solemn words of our Lord himself:

“Many will come to me in that day, saying, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name, and in your name cast out devils, and in your name done many wonderful works? To whom I will answer, I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of iniquity.”

The miraculous gifts, and the internal graces of the Spirit, then, are quite distinct, and might even exist apart. Now, which is the more valuable of the two? Surely that which stands connected with the salvation of the soul; for even if there was no express testimony of Scripture on the subject, this inference would be warranted by the simple fact that his inward grace alone can save the soul. But there is an express testimony of Scripture on the subject. For, bringing these two things into direct comparison, the apostle intimates that one saving grace in the heart, is of greater value than all the miraculous gifts put together. In 1Cor 12.30, having spoken of the gifts of healing, and miracles, and tongues, he says, “Covet earnestly the best gifts” — an expression which shows that he did not by any means disparage them. But he adds, “And yet I show you a more excellent way.” And what is that? “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have no charity” or LOVE, “I have become like sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge. And though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and do not have charity,” or love, “I am nothing.” Here he selects one of the inward graces of the Spirit — for “the fruit of the Spirit is love,” — and he declares that it is more valuable than all the miraculous gifts of the Spirit combined.

Now these two — the miraculous gifts and the internal graces of the Spirit — being distinct and capable of existing separately, and the one being so much more valuable than the other, the only question that remains is this: Which of the two is the permanent inheritance of the Church? It is evidently the more valuable of the two. The miraculous gifts of the Spirit have long since been withdrawn.[15] They were used for a temporary purpose. They were the scaffolding which God employed for the erection of a spiritual temple. When it was no longer needed, the scaffolding was taken down, but THE TEMPLE still stands and is occupied by his indwelling Spirit. For, “Don’t you know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (1Cor 3.16)

CHAPTER 3. A General View Of The Process Of A Sinner’s Conversion.

In the last chapter, I endeavoured to illustrate the general design of the gift of the Spirit, in reference both to the World and the Church. I founded my observations on that comprehensive statement of our Lord, “It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Spirit will not come to you; but if I depart, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment;” and “he will guide you into all truth;” “he shall glorify me; for he will receive of mine, and show it to you.”

Two classes are spoken of here — the two great classes into which, according to the Scriptures, all mankind is divided — the world and the Church. And the gift of the Spirit was designed to have an important bearing on each: it was designed to reprove or convict the one, and to instruct, guide, and edify the other. It is a mistake to imagine that the gift of the Spirit is so confined to the Church as to have no bearing at all on the unbelieving world. It was expressly intimated by our Lord, that when “he came, he would reprove the world,” or convict the world by proof, concerning “sin, and righteousness, and judgment.” And the apostle, referring to one of the miraculous fruits of the Spirit, says, “Tongues are for a sign, not to those who believe, but to those who do not believe; but prophesying” — another gift of the same Spirit — “does not serve for those who do not believe, but for those who believe.” The Spirit, then, affords such proof or evidence to the unbelieving world, that it is sufficient either to convince or to convict, to convert or to condemn them; while to the believing Church and people of God, he imparts larger and clearer views of divine truth, and enables them to discern “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

But between these two classes, however real the distinction, and however wide the difference which divides the one from the other, there is not now (as there will be hereafter) an impassable barrier of separation. In the state of retribution, believers may say with Abraham, “Between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that those who would pass from here to you cannot, nor can they pass to us who would come from there.” (Luke 16.26) But in the present state of grace, there is no such barrier. Souls are continually passing from the world to the Church — from darkness to light — from death to life. The way is plain — the door is open — the warrant is clear. Every believer was once an unbeliever; every saint was once a sinner. And all God’s people will gratefully acknowledge that if they now belong to a peculiar class, and are no longer ‘‘aliens and strangers, but fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of faith,” this is not to be ascribed to any original difference between them and their fellow-men; for naturally, all belong to the same class, and partake of the same character. But it is to be ascribed solely to that great change which was wrought on their souls when they “had their eyes opened, and were turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God.” Now, I propose at present to direct your attention to the case of a soul, while it is in a state of transition from one class into the other, and passing from the world into the Church. And in doing so, I will endeavour to present a general view of the process of a sinner’s conversion when, being reproved as one of the world, he also comes to be guided and taught as one of Christ’s disciples.

In the Holy Scriptures, the origin of the scheme of redemption is ascribed to the love of the Father; and its ultimate issue is declared to be “the salvation” of His people, or “their obtaining the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.” But between these two there is a middle term, descriptive of a change through which they must pass — a change contemplated and provided for in God’s eternal purpose, and essentially necessary as an element in their preparation for the glory that remains to be revealed. “God has chosen you to salvation, through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth.” This is an integral part of the Divine plan, and an essential requisite to our admission into heaven. And it is described in two clauses — the one pointing to the agent by whom the change is wrought — the other to the means which he employs in accomplishing it: “through sanctification of the Spirit” — He is the agent; and “belief of the truth” — that is the means.

We learn from this and many other passages, that our personal and saving interest in the redemption of Christ, depends on its being applied to us individually by the grace and power of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit, not less than the Father and the Son, has an important office in the work of our salvation: it belongs to him to apply to individuals, the redemption that was purchased by the Saviour. It is through “sanctification of the Spirit” that any obtain the “glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Christ’s salvation can be of no use to any man unless he is made a partaker of it; and he is made a partaker of it only by the work of the Spirit. You may be labouring under a loathsome, inveterate, and fatal disease. A remedy may be provided for you — it may be purchased — it may be offered freely for your acceptance. But if either through insensibility as to your danger, or indifference as to your life, or unbelief as to the skill of the physician, or dislike of his method of cure, you refuse the proffered remedy — then it is of no practical use — you disbelieve and die. So it is with your souls: sin is your disease; God has prescribed the cure; Christ has purchased it; it is freely and fully proposed to every sinner in the Gospel; but it is of no saving benefit to anyone, unless it is applied to them by the Holy Spirit

It is deeply interesting to observe that in those comprehensive summaries of the Gospel which occur in various parts of Scripture, the agency of each of the Three Persons of the Godhead, in the work of men’s salvation, is distinctly stated; and that the whole practical effect of what was wrought by the Father and the Son, is declared to depend on the agency of the Spirit. For example — it is by the Spirit that God approaches us through Christ; for he draws near to sinners in the Word, which is the Spirit’s message — and that Word is rendered effectual by the Spirit’s grace: “He saves us by the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost, which he sheds on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Lord.” — It is by the Spirit that we have access to God through Christ: “Through whom we both have access by one Spirit to the Father.” — It is by the Spirit that we become partakers of all the benefits which were purchased by the Son, and are offered by the Father: for “you are washed, you are sanctified, you are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.”

It is equally true, then, that but for Christ’s death, the Spirit would not have been given; and that but for the Spirit’s work, Christ’s death would have been in vain. This was the view entertained by the divines of the Reformation. And accordingly, you will mark a singular beauty in the arrangement of the Shorter Catechism where, after a full account is given of Christ’s work, both in his state of humiliation and exaltation, the Spirit’s agency in the application of redemption to individuals is interposed between the work of Christ and the saving benefits which flow from it to his people. It is the Spirit’s work which connects the two — which forms the link between the purchase of salvation on the part of the Redeemer, and the enjoyment of salvation on the part of his people. And never till this great article of our faith is duly understood and acknowledged, will we either feel as we should how absolutely dependent we are on free grace from first to last, nor how admirably, at every stage, God has provided for us the grace which we need!

Sanctification is used sometimes in a wider, and at other times in a more restricted sense. In the latter, it is descriptive of the progressive and gradual advancement of believers in the path of faith and holiness and comfort — or in other words, their spiritual growth after they have been born again. But in the former, it includes the new birth itself, as well as the life which flows from it — the first as well as the succeeding steps of that course which begins in conversion, and ends in glory. In this comprehensive sense, it denotes a radical change of mind and heart, by which new views, new principles, new motives, new hopes, and new habits are imparted to them; so that they become “new creatures: old things pass away; all things become new.” The whole of this change is ascribed to the agency of the Spirit of God. It is “through sanctification of the Spirit” that a sinner is born again; and it is “through sanctification of the same Spirit” that he is enabled to die more and more unto sin, and to live unto righteousness.

But while the great change is wrought by the power of the Spirit, this divine agent acts by the use of means that are adapted to the constitution of the human mind. It is through “belief of the truth” that the Spirit fulfils, in the case of adults, our Lord’s prayer on behalf of his people — “Sanctify them through your truth; your Word is truth.” The Word, or the truth contained in the Word, is the instrument by which the Spirit acts in applying the benefits of Christ’s redemption; and it is an instrument admirably adapted to its end. Powerless in itself, it is mighty through God. It is the sword of the Spirit. It is the hammer by which he breaks the rock in pieces. It is the light which he opens the mind to receive. It is the food by which he feeds, and the medicine by which he heals, and the consolation with which he comforts. The Spirit and the Word must not be disjoined. The sanctification of the Spirit, and the belief of the truth, are inseparably linked together, and are equally essential — the one as an efficient agent, the other as a fit instrument or means. Note how uniformly they go together in Scripture. Of regeneration it is said that we are “born of water and of the Spirit,” — he is the agent in that great initial change. But it is also said, we are “born not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, even by the Word of God” — that is the instrument by which the change is wrought. It is said of Lydia, “The Lord opened the heart of Lydia,’’ — here is divine agency. But the use of means was not superseded, for it is added, “so that she attended to the things that were spoken by Paul’’ — here is the instrumentality of the Word. And the Psalmist’s prayer, “Open my eyes,” recognises the necessity of divine influence; but when he adds, “that I may see wonderful things out of your law,” divine truth, as revealed in the Word, is also recognised as the means of his instruction. These two — the sanctification of the Spirit, and belief of the truth — are equally essential, and the one must not be allowed to supersede or exclude the other.

Having premised these general observations, let us now conceive the case of a soul that as yet belongs to the world, or to the class of unbelieving men, and consider the way in which, through the agency of the Spirit of God, he is translated into the other class, and made a living member of His Church. This transition occurs at the time of his conversion. And the process by which it is effected may differ in different cases, in respect to some of its concomitant circumstances. But essentially and substantially it consists in his being brought to believe the truth, so as to comply with, and embrace the method of salvation which is proposed to him in the Gospel. And in order for this, there are three distinct steps or stages by which the Spirit of God leads a sinner to the Saviour. These are described and placed in their natural order in the Shorter Catechism, where we read, that “Effectual calling is the work of God’s Spirit, whereby convincing us of our sin and misery, enlightening our minds in the knowledge of Christ, and renewing our wills, he persuades and enables us to embrace Jesus Christ for salvation, as he is freely offered to us in the Gospel.”

The first part of the Spirit’s work, in order for a sinner’s conversion, is “to convince him of his sin and misery,” and especially of his guilt and danger as an unbeliever — living without Christ up till then, and therefore being without God and without hope in the world. This is expressly declared by the Saviour to be part of the Spirit’s work: “He will reprove the world of sin: of sin, because they do not believe in me.” It does not suit my present purpose to describe the nature of conviction, or to give a detailed account of the sinner’s experience under it; that will be considered afterward. In the meantime, I would only offer an outline of the whole process by which a sinner is translated from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God’s dear Son; and to show, in regard to each of the stages of that process, the place which it holds, and its indispensable necessity, in order for saving conversion.

Conviction occupies the first place; for it is by convicting that the Spirit converts. But when it is thus used, the term must be understood in a large and comprehensive sense, as including a great deal more than is usually implied in mere remorse on account of sin. The Spirit chiefly convicts transgressors of their sin, because they do not believe in Christ, and of their misery and danger as Christless sinners — for the whole work of conviction, as well as the work of illumination and persuasion, has reference to CHRIST as the great subject of the Spirit’s witness. It is important to bear this in mind. For many, under the mere natural operation of conscience, are sensible, at least occasionally, of very bitter and poignant remorse, when they have never seriously thought of Christ, or felt their need of a Saviour. Whereas the conviction which is spoken of in the Gospel, has a direct relation to Christ, and implies not only a sense of guilt on the conscience, but a sense of the sin and misery of remaining in a Christless state. It presupposes, therefore, some general knowledge of Christ and the Gospel, as well as a sense of guilt, and a feeling of remorse. And it cannot be produced without an impression first being made on the mind, of the certain truth, the awful authority, and the transcendent importance of the Gospel. In this comprehensive sense, conviction presupposes some measure of the enlightening grace of the Spirit — imparting a general view of the truth as it is in Jesus, and enabling the mind to perceive the divine evidence of that truth, so as to feel that it is deeply criminal in slighting or rejecting it.

And when it is said, therefore, that in the order of nature and experience, conviction is the first part of the Spirit’s work, or the first stage in that process by which he brings a sinner to the Saviour, it is not meant that the Spirit operates directly and only on the conscience, so as to awaken in it a sense of sin — but that He operates on the conscience by imparting such light to the understanding that it readies the conscience, and quickens its perception, and enables it to see and feel that there is sin and danger in not believing in Christ. Such conviction embraces, indeed, the guilt of every sin. And the Spirit recalls to the recollection of the transgressor many sins, both of omission and commission, which he had long overlooked or forgotten. For at that solemn hour God says to him, “You thought that I was altogether such a one as yourself; but I will reprove you, and set your sins in order before your face.” And when his transgressions start up, and pass in dark array before him, he is surprised and startled by the discovery of their number, and magnitude, and manifold aggravations — insomuch that he is ready to exclaim with the Psalmist, “My transgressions have gone up over my head, and have become a burden too heavy for me.” Any one sin may thus become the occasion of conviction. And it is by revealing sin to the conscience, that the Spirit awakens it. But conviction is not complete, nor is it effectual as a means towards conversion, unless it amounts to a persuasion that without Christ, our case is desperate; and that we have sinned (as in other respects, so especially in this) because we have not believed in Him.

No man ever thinks of going to a physician until he feels that a disease is upon him. He may be diseased, and mortally so; but till he knows and believes that he is so, he doesn’t seek a remedy. No man cries for a deliverer, until he believes himself to be in danger. He may be in danger, and yet be ignorant of it; and his danger is often greatest when he is least alarmed. But until he knows his danger, he has no desire for deliverance. Just so, the sinner is diseased; but he will never repair to Christ as a physician, till he knows that Christ alone is the Physician of souls. The sinner is in danger, but he will never flee to Christ for refuge, until he is convinced that without Christ, he must perish.

To some this may appear a very easy matter, and one that requires no supernatural agency, since all men will readily admit that they are sinners. And the natural light of conscience itself may seem to be sufficient, especially when combined with the light of the Word, to convince them of their danger. But easy as it may appear, I apprehend that this is the very stage at which the Divine Spirit meets with the stoutest resistance, and at which the sinner is most resolutely blind to the plainest lessons of the Word. For why is it that so many are found in every congregation, who have listened for years to a faithful ministry, and have become familiar with the joyful sound, while they remain utterly unconcerned about the salvation of their souls, and have never experienced, never even sought after the relief which the Gospel offers? Why is this, if not that they have never been convinced of their sin and misery — or at least, they have never been so convinced as to feel that, without Christ, they must perish? It is indeed an easy thing to say, as many do, that they are weak, frail creatures; or to admit in general terms what conscience itself forbids them to deny — that they are sinners. But it is no easy and no pleasant thing for any man to open his eyes, and to look fairly and fully at his own condition and character, as it is exhibited in the light of God’s Word, or as one day he will see it at the judgment-seat of Christ. Such a view of himself would mortify his pride and alarm his fears. And hence he takes refuge in certain general confessions, which have little or no meaning, and which leave his pride unmortified, and his fears asleep.

“Everyone who does evil, hates the light, nor does he come to the light, lest his deeds be reproved.” He shuts his eyes, and thereby contrives to maintain a deceitful security, while he betrays a secret consciousness that the light would disturb or destroy it. Such being the natural tendency, and the inveterate habit of every guilty mind, it is not by the mere operation of his own conscience, but by the direct agency of the Spirit of God, that any sinner can be duly convinced of his sin, and misery, and danger. He never sees himself as he really is, until his eyes are opened by the Spirit, and at least some rays of heaven’s own light are admitted into the darkened chamber of imagery within. The Spirit does this, partly by revealing to him the essential purity, the unsullied holiness, the awful and infinite perfection of God’s character. This is no sooner perceived, than he marks the contrast between it and his own character. And then he is ready to exclaim, “I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; I therefore abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes;” — partly by unfolding the spirituality and extent of God’s law, and applying it closely to the conscience. No sooner is this felt, than he is ready to acknowledge, “I was alive without the law once; but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died;” — partly by calling to his remembrance the many sins long forgotten, or too easily excused, and exhibiting them before his awakened conscience in their true colours. He no sooner discerns this in the light of truth, than he says, “I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.”

— but chiefly, I apprehend, it is by directing the sinner’s eye to Christ — to Christ on the cross, suffering for sin, and to Christ on the throne, exalted as a Prince and a Saviour. For both in the humiliation, and in the exaltation of Christ, the sinner perceives under the teaching of the Spirit, what is fitted powerfully to awaken his conscience — insomuch that it may be safely affirmed that it is by the Spirit’s witness to Christ, that the sinner is first brought to see the magnitude of his guilt, and the certainty of his punishment as a transgressor; and above all, to see the hopeless and wretched condition of his soul, so long as it has no interest in such a Saviour. By looking to Christ on the cross, “he mourns and is in bitterness;’’ by looking to Christ on the throne, he is “pricked in his heart, and exclaims, What must I do to be saved?”

It is thus that the Spirit of God, by closely applying the truth to the conscience, brings a sinner to feel his need of a Saviour. And the convictions which are thus produced, are the first and strongest motives to serious inquiry and earnest prayer. And accordingly, you will generally observe that when any person in a congregation is benefited by the ministry of the Gospel, the first intimation of this change consists in a deep seriousness of spirit, sometimes in great anxiety and even distress of mind, bordering on despair. The reason for this is that the Spirit of God is convincing that man of his sin and misery, and closely applying the truth to his conscience, so as to make him feel his need of a Saviour. And thus he is prepared for receiving with all gladness, the simple message of grace, as suited to his need. Whereas others who say that they are sinners, but without any spiritual perception of the meaning of this confession, easily succeed in quieting their occasional convictions by the opiates of error and self-deceit. They sit for years under the same ministry, without making a single step in advance towards salvation, and without being conscious of so much as one earnest desire for its attainment. Conviction of sin, then, and especially conviction of sin and danger, on account of unbelief in Christ, is a hopeful symptom — a necessary preparative — a common precursor of a saving change.

When a sinner is thus “convinced of his sin and misery,” so as to feel his need of a Saviour, the next part of the Spirit’s work is to enlighten his mind in the knowledge of Christ,” as being in all respects just such a Saviour as he needs. He may have had some knowledge of Christ before; he may have been well instructed in his earliest years; and the doctrine of salvation may have been long familiar to his mind. But that doctrine now assumes a new aspect, and is studied in a better spirit, when under the influence of serious conviction, he is brought to feel that his eternity depends upon it. Many parts of the glorious scheme of grace — which till then he had regarded as unimportant, or even objectionable — will now appear to his awakened eye to be invested with awful interest and transcendent value. And the more he contemplates it in connection with his own felt necessities, the more he will be convinced that it is in all respects suitable to his case. It contains neither more than was necessary to meet, nor less than is sufficient to secure, his everlasting welfare. Above all, the person, the character, the offices, and the work of CHRIST, will command his deepest interest. And as he meditates on these, and acquires new and more enlarged views of their glory, his heart will burn within him at every fresh discovery of the power, and grace, and all-sufficiency of the Saviour.

The great work of the Spirit is to point the eye of a convinced sinner to Christ — to open up to him the fulness that is in Christ — to unfold His unsearchable riches — to explain the design of His mission, the constitution of His person, the variety of His offices, the nature and the perfection of His work, the certainty and glory of his reward as our Redeemer. And allusion is made to this part of the Spirit’s testimony for Christ, both when it is said that he would reprove or convict the world of righteousness, because he has gone to the Father; and also when it is added that He would reprove the world of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged. The Spirit’s advent was, in itself, a proof of Christ’s exaltation; and as such, it is a proof of his righteousness and power as a Prince and Saviour. And when he comes, the Spirit glorifies Christ by revealing him to the awakened sinner as the “Lord his righteousness” — a perfect and accepted “propitiation” — “a priest on his throne.” And one vivid view of Christ as he is, imparted to the mind in the hour of private meditation, or under the preaching of the Gospel, has been sufficient in many a case, to dispel all the doubts and misgivings of a troubled conscience — insomuch that the man has felt as if all of a sudden his eyes had been opened on the light of day, or as if his conscience were relieved from a heavy burden, or as if his whole soul were at once enlarged — liberated from bondage, and introduced into the glorious liberty with which Christ makes his people free.

And what is very remarkable, the very same truths may have been presented to his mind in former times without producing any effect. The truth is the same, but it appears to him in a new light. He has no occasion to alter a single article in his former creed, yet he feels as if he could say — “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.” He knew Christ before, in the same way that those knew him, of whom it is said that he was to them “like a root out of dry ground, having no form or attractiveness, nor any beauty for which they should desire him.” But now, every word respecting Christ is sweet — every aspect of his character, and office, and work, awakens interest — everything in Christ is precious when, under the teaching of the Spirit, he is seen to be “the fairest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely.” And this part of the Spirit’s work most sweetly and seasonably follows on the conviction of sin. Nor is it unnecessary even in the case of a convinced sinner. For all experience shows that when overwhelmed with the thought of his own sinfulness, he is prone to doubt or disbelieve the truth as it is in Jesus, or to put a legal construction on the Gospel, or to sink into utter dejection and despair — as if he could have no interest in the Gospel, and was too great a sinner to be saved. It belongs to the office of the Spirit to dispel these dark suspicions, and to correct these fatal misapprehensions. And He does this, not by imparting any new information that isn’t revealed in the Bible, but by unfolding the truth which the Bible contains, and by simply “enlightening the mind in the knowledge of Christ.”

Another step remains. It is quite possible that a man may be, to a certain extent, convinced of his sin and misery, and that he may have acquired a considerable degree of knowledge concerning Christ, and yet fall short of conversion. We read that “Felix trembled;’’ and we read of some “who were once enlightened,” and yet fell away. Indeed, most men in a Christian country have their occasional convictions and fears, and also have some notional acquaintance with the doctrine of salvation; indeed, they may seem to “receive that doctrine with joy.” And yet, they refuse to undergo the great, the decisive, the saving change. The reason for this is — the inveterate depravity of the human heart, and its native aversion or enmity to God. The heart must be renewed, and its enmity slain, before a thorough conversion is accomplished. And the previous process of conviction and instruction is only a means to this end — a means suitable in itself, and sufficient through the Spirit’s grace — but without it, utterly ineffectual. Accordingly, the concluding part of the Spirit’s work in conversion is to “renew our wills,” or to make us willing to be saved by Christ on Gospel terms. It is not enough to convince a man of his sin and misery — conviction is not conversion. Nor is it enough to instruct him in the doctrine of the Gospel — that doctrine might only inflame his enmity, and exasperate his pride. Conversion implies a change of heart.

It may seem that the direct agency of the Spirit cannot be necessary here, since all men must be willing to be saved. But it is far, very far from being true, that men are willing to be saved in the Gospel sense of that expression. They are willing to escape from misery, simply considered as such, and to secure what they regard as happiness. But they are not anxious (on the contrary, they are averse) to being saved as the Gospel proposes to save them. They have no desire to be delivered from sin, and no relish for the spiritual happiness which Christ offers to bestow. Had the Gospel simply proclaimed impunity for sin, or exemption from suffering, and that, live as they might, men would enjoy an eternal happiness suited to their own tastes — then doubtless it would have been hailed with one universal acclamation of gratitude and joy. But the Gospel makes no such overture. It speaks of a salvation from sin, as well as from suffering, and proposes a heaven into which nothing that is unclean or impure shall ever enter. To say that all men are willing to be saved in that sense, and in this way, would be to deny the depravity of human nature, and to affirm that all men are willing to be holy. The great difficulty then, is to make them willing to be saved in the Bible sense of that expression, and in the way of God’s appointment. And this is effected by the Spirit’s grace — “They are a willing people in the day of his power.”

It is important to mark, that this is the last stage in the process, and the completion of the Spirit’s work in converting a sinner. As soon as he is made willing, there remains no barrier between him and the Saviour. He is at perfect liberty, on God’s own warrant and invitation — no, by God’s express command — to “embrace Jesus Christ as he is freely offered to him in the Gospel.” It may be affirmed of every man who reads or hears the Gospel, that there is nothing between him and salvation except his own unwillingness to be saved. “You are not willing to come to me, that you might have life” — that is the Saviour’s charge and complaint. “Whoever will, let him take of the water of life freely” — that is the Saviour’s call and invitation. The warrant of every sinner to believe in Christ to the saving of the soul is clear. It is written as with a sunbeam in Scripture. It lies wholly in the Word, which is the Spirit’s message, and not at all in the Spirit’s witness in the heart. The warrant of the Word is ample. But if anyone feels that even with this warrant in his hand, there is something within him which keeps him back — a depraved heart, a rebellious will, a reluctant spirit — oh! let him acknowledge his own helplessness, and cast himself with the simplicity of a little child, on the grace of the Spirit of God!

CHAPTER 4. The Work Of The Spirit In Enlightening The Mind.

Having considered the general design of the gift of the Spirit, in reference to both the World and the Church, and having described the course or process by which the soul is translated from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God’s dear Son — I propose to illustrate separately, the various parts of the Spirit’s work, or his successive operations on the soul, from the time when it is first taken under his teaching, till it is made “fit for the inheritance of the saints in light.”

One of His most necessary operations is that by which he conveys spiritual light into the understanding. And the apostle refers to this part of his work — which is indeed so important, that it is often put for the whole — when speaking of the Holy Ghost as “the Spirit of wisdom and revelation.” He prays that by the Spirit “the eyes of our understanding may be enlightened’’ (Eph 1.17-18). He refers to it when he describes true converts as having their eyes opened, and being turned from darkness to light — indeed, translated out of darkness into God’s marvellous light.

The illuminating work of the Holy Spirit may be said to be the groundwork of all his other operations. For it is by the truth known and believed, that the Spirit fulfils all the functions of his glorious office.[16] By enlightening the mind in the knowledge of sin, he lays a groundwork for the conviction of conscience; — by enabling us to see the import and meaning of the Gospel, he proposes motives for conversion; — by teaching us right views of God and of ourselves, our privileges, and prospects, he supplies us with means of comfort; — by showing us the nature and necessity of Gospel holiness, he carries forward the work of sanctification; — by disclosing to us scriptural views of our spiritual necessities, he calls forth the spirit of prayer; — and generally, he does whatever he is wont to do, by means of the knowledge of the truth. Hence it is important to give due consideration to this part of the Spirit’s work, so that we may be prepared to understand, and to rightly improve, whatever we find revealed respecting his other operations on the soul.

Such, indeed, is the inseparable connection, or rather the real affinity of all the saving graces of the Spirit, that none of them can exist without being accompanied or followed by all the rest. And hence, any one of them may be used to signify the presence of all. Thus, knowledge, faith, repentance, and love, are severally spoken of in Scripture, as either comprehending or implying everything that is essential to a sinner’s salvation. And hence, a full exposition of any one of these fruits of the Spirit might embrace a description of the whole of the Spirit’s work. It is not, then, with the view of separating them, or assigning the precise order of their production, that we distinguish one part of the Spirit’s work from another. Rather, it is with the view of unfolding it in all the magnitude of its extent, and the variety of its aspects, as it is exhibited in the Gospel.

The Holy Spirit is the enlightener of God’s people, and He imparts spiritual illumination to their minds. This part of the Spirit’s work implies a previous state of spiritual darkness on the part of those who are its subjects; and the natural state of all men is very frequently represented under the figures of darkness, blindness, and ignorance. They are described as “walking in the vanity of their minds, having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart.” And again, “The natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.”

Here observe that this spiritual darkness is universal — it is affirmed of all the Gentiles, and we will find that it is also affirmed of all the unbelieving Jews. It belongs to the “natural man,” or to every man as he is by nature. It is not dispelled by those common notions of God and divine things, which an unrenewed mind may acquire in the exercise of its own faculties. Nor is its prevailing power disproved by the existence of these notions, any more than the prevailing power of sin is disproved by the existence of some notions of the difference between right and wrong. No, as in nature itself, there is “no darkness without a mixture of light” [17] — such light as serves only to make “the darkness visible,” and so it is with the unrenewed soul. Its common notions of God are not sufficient to dispel the darkness in which it is shrouded. And hence the apostle, in one place, declares that when “men knew God, they did not glorify him as God;” and regarding this as a proof that there was some radical defect in their knowledge of Him, he speaks of it elsewhere as if it were no knowledge at all; for he says, “the world by wisdom did not know God.” And may we not apply to these common notions, which have nothing in them of the true celestial light, the solemn remark of our Lord himself, “If the light that is in you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” This darkness does not consist merely in the absence of outward light, but in the “blindness of the mind” — such blindness as to obstruct the entrance of the light, even when it is shining gloriously around us. Thus it is said of the unbelieving Jews, that they remained in spiritual darkness with the revelation of God in their hands.

“But their minds were blinded: for until this day the same veil remains untaken away in the reading of the Old Testament — this veil is done away in Christ. But even to this day, when Moses is read, the veil is upon their heart. Nevertheless, when one turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away.” (2Cor 3.14-16)

A twofold veil is spoken of here — the one which covered the Old Testament, before the advent of Christ, by whom it was explained as well as fulfilled — and the other which lay upon their own souls, and which prevented them from seeing, even when the first “veil was done away in Christ.” And so, of multitudes who live in the full blaze of Gospel light, it is said that they remain inwardly in a state of spiritual darkness. For “if our Gospel is hidden, it is hidden to those who are lost: in whom the God of this world has blinded the minds of those who do not believe, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.” (2Cor 4.3-4.)

If this spiritual darkness is natural to all men — and if it may exist notwithstanding the common notions of God and religion which they may acquire by their natural faculties — and notwithstanding the still higher instruction of the written Word — then it follows that it can only be removed by an inward operation on the mind itself. And this is expressly ascribed to the enlightening influence of his Spirit. “The Lord is that Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” If we would “with open (or unveiled) face behold the glory of the Lord,” it must be “as by the Spirit of the Lord.”

Accordingly, the change which is wrought in the mind at the time of its conversion is compared to a transition from darkness to light, or to the change of night into day. It is said of the Father, that “He has delivered us from the power of darkness, and has translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son.” — that “he has called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.” And it is said of Christ, that he commissioned Paul “to open their eyes, to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God.” But this was not to be accomplished by mere human teaching, as it appears from that striking passage where God speaks of it as his own peculiar work, and intimates that it could be accomplished by no other means than that creative power which — “when the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters” — spoke saying, “Let there be light, and there was light.” For the apostle says, “God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” And then the wondering disciple will exclaim, “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.” (Joh 9.25)

This great change is ascribed to the immediate agency of the Holy Spirit on the soul. It is ascribed, indeed, to the Father “as the fountain of lights, from whom comes down every good and perfect gift;” and to the Son also, as the anointed Prophet of the Church, “the light of the world.” But it is the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, by whose immediate personal agency this illumination of the mind is wrought. Our Lord himself promised to send the Spirit as an Enlightener. “When he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you into all truth.” “He will glorify me; for he will receive of mine, and show it to you.” “The Comforter, who is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatever I have said to you.” And that this precious promise was not personal to the apostles, nor limited to the primitive Church, appears from the preceding context: “I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you forever; even the Spirit of truth.” By His constant presence, and continued grace in the Church, he fulfils that other promise — “Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.”

There are various distinct operations of the Holy Spirit as the Enlightener of the soul.

(1.) As the revealer of the truth, by whom it was made known to the prophets, evangelists, and apostles — for “Holy men of old spoke as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.” “God has revealed them to us by his Spirit; for the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God.”

(2.) As the Author of the Scriptures, inspiring the prophets, evangelists, and apostles, to write what should be preserved and recorded for the conviction of the world, and for the comfort of the Church in all ages — for “all Scripture was given by his inspiration.” So that every individual stands indebted to the Holy Ghost for every ray of light that has ever beamed on his understanding from the page of Scripture. The Bible is the Spirit’s message; it is the textbook which he has provided for the Church.

(3.) But there is, and must be, a more direct operation of the Holy Spirit on every human soul that is enlightened by his truth. It is not enough that He has revealed the truth to his apostles, and that he has embodied and preserved it in an authentic Bible. The glorious light may shine around us, without shining into our hearts. There is a defective vision that must be cured — a blind eye that must be opened — a veil that must be taken away — a thick darkness within, which must be dispelled by his creative mandate, “Let there be light.” Notwithstanding all the abundance of Gospel light, it is still as true as it ever was, that “the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God;” — that “no man knows the Son, but the Father; neither does any man know the Father, save the Son, and whomever the Son reveals him to;” — and that he is often pleased “to hide these things from the wise and prudent, and to reveal them to babes.”

The Word of God is the instrument, and the Spirit of God is the agent, in this great work of illumination. The Bible is the textbook, but the Spirit himself is the teacher. He is not only the author of that book, but the interpreter of it also, who guides us into a knowledge of its truths. He puts the Bible into our hands, as a “light unto our feet and a lamp unto our path.” But knowing that we are naturally blind, and cannot see far off, he opens our eye and shines into our heart. All the truth which the Spirit ever teaches is in the Word; but it would never find entrance into our hearts unless he put it there. The Word is a sword, a sharp two-edged sword; but its efficacy depends on this — that it is the sword of the Spirit. The Word is a light; but it is “in His light that we see light.” “The entrance of his Word gives light;” but it obtains entrance only when “he opens the heart.” Hence the prayer of the Psalmist, “Open my eyes, that I may see wondrous things out of your law;” and the still more remarkable prayer of the apostle, “For this cause I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man.” Here is a powerful work of the Spirit on the soul; it must be strengthened with might — and for what end? “That you may be able to comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fulness of God.” No new truth is said to be revealed here; but what is contained in the Word is made known by the inward enlightening of the Holy Spirit.

The efficacy of all the means of grace, depends on the teaching of the Spirit, and especially the efficacy of the reading and preaching of the Word. Without the Spirit, the ministry of the Word would be utterly fruitless for all the ends of saving conversion. It might be a social blessing, as a means of keeping alive a sense of common morality in the world, but it could never be the means of spiritual life to the soul, unless it were accompanied with the enlightening grace of the Spirit. What is more powerful than the ministry of the apostles? What reasoning is more vigorous — what appeals more overwhelming — what eloquence more lofty — what zeal more urgent than those of Paul? What love is so tender, what tenderness so pathetic, what pathos so touching, what unction so rich and sweet, as those of John? What sacred orator was better furnished for his vocation than Apollos, of whom it is written that “he was an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures?” Yet even the ministry of inspired men, the preaching of the very apostles of Christ, depended on the grace of the Spirit for all its saving efficacy. For the apostle says, “Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom you believed, even as the Lord gave to every man? I have planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase. So then, neither he who plants is anything, nor he who waters, but God who gives the increase.” “We are labourers together with God; but you are God’s husbandry, you are God’s building.”

Ministers are often employed as instruments in enlightening and converting the soul; and hence, ministerially, they may be said to be the spiritual fathers of their converts. Yet it is not by their own power, but by the power of the Holy Ghost. So that every successful minister might well say with the apostles, “You men of Israel, why do you marvel at this? or why do you look so earnestly upon us, as though by our own power or holiness we had made this man walk?” This great truth, if it shows the weakness of the minister, it will also prove the very strength of his ministry. For never will he feel so deeply impressed either with the greatness of his work, or the dignity of his mission, as when he is most thoroughly convinced that the efficacy of all his preaching depends on the power of the Spirit. This will nerve him with new strength, and inspire him with new hope, when all outward appearances are most unpromising. And in the strength of this simple faith, he will stand prepared to deliver his message before any audience, savage or civilized, assured that the same Spirit who has brought the truth home to his own soul, can also bring it home with demonstration and power, to both the obtuse and unlettered peasant, and the refined, perhaps sceptical or scornful man of science.

Further, the Word, the ministry, and other means of instruction, are adapted to the rational nature of man, and are in their own nature fitted for the purpose for which they are employed. Indeed, in the use of their natural faculties, men may be instructed, impressed, and affected by the reading and hearing of the Word; but they cannot be savingly enlightened without the teaching of the Spirit.

The Spirit’s operations are adapted to the nature of man, as a rational and intelligent being; and He works in and by the faculties of the soul. It is the same mind which is now in darkness, that is to be translated into marvellous light; the same understanding which is now ignorant, that is to be informed; the same eye which is now blind, that is to be opened and enabled to see. The Spirit usually exerts his power by the use of appropriate means. Omitting from our present consideration the case of infants, who may be sanctified from the womb by the secret operations of the Spirit, it is clear that, in the case of adults, the mind is enlightened instrumentally by the truth, which is hence called “the light of the glorious Gospel,” and the “day-star which rises on the heart.” The Word of God is an appropriate means of enlightening the mind. It is an instrument which is in every respect fitted for the purpose for which it is employed (2Tim 3.16). If any remain in darkness with the Bible in their hands, it is not because there is no light in the Bible, but because there is no spiritual eye to discern it. All the truth which an enlightened believer ever learns under the teaching of the Spirit, is really contained in the Bible, even if he had not seen it there before. Indeed, much of it may have been contained in the articles of his professed creed; but it was not known, understood, and believed in its full spiritual meaning as it is now. He is only brought, in many cases, to see what he formerly professed to believe, in a new light — so as to understand and feel its spiritual import and power, as the truth of God.

Being an appropriate means, adapted to the faculties of the human mind, there can be no reason to doubt that the Bible, like any other book, may convey much instruction to an unrenewed man. When it is affirmed that a natural man cannot know the things of the Spirit of God, it is not implied that the Bible is unintelligibly written, or that he cannot understand the sense and meaning of scriptural propositions, so as to be able to give a rational account of them. For he may investigate the literal meaning of Scripture. And in doing so, he may attach a definite idea to many of its statements; — he may be able to see their mutual relations, to reason upon them, and even to expound them; — and yet, in the scriptural sense, he may be in darkness notwithstanding. There are truths in the Bible which admit of being recognised and even proved by natural reason; “for the things of a man may be known by the spirit of man which is in him;” and even “the things of the Spirit,” when revealed, may be so far understood as to affect and impress the mind, which is nevertheless unconverted. The Pharisees had “the form of knowledge in the law;” they were the great theologians under the Old Testament. Yet our Lord declares that studious and instructed as they were, and capable of expounding the writings of Moses, they did not really know God, nor understand the writings of Moses. Simon Magus must have had some correct notional acquaintance with the leading truths of the Gospel. He must have been able to put them forth in intelligible propositions when he made that profession of faith which the apostles themselves regarded as a sufficient ground for his admission to the sacrament of baptism. Yet he had not been spiritually enlightened, for “he was still in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity.” So our Lord himself speaks of some who hear the Word, and shortly receive it with joy. They not only have some notion of its meaning, but some impressions of its power; and yet they do not have the “light of life.”

They are like Herod, “who feared John, knowing that he was a just man and holy, and observed him; and when he heard him, he did many things, and heard him gladly.” There is a great difference even between the views of natural men on the subject of divine truth — a difference which is strikingly exemplified by the very different language of the three Roman governors — Festus, Agrippa, and Felix — in reference to the preaching of Paul. Festus spoke out in the bold language of a natural man, to whom the preaching of the Gospel was foolishness: “Paul, you are beside yourself: much learning makes you mad.” Agrippa was impressed and moved, for he said, “You almost persuade me to be a Christian.” And Felix was still more deeply moved, for “as Paul reasoned about righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled.” The natural man, then, may know something of divine truth; he may even be impressed and affected by it — without acquiring that saving knowledge which our Lord himself declares to be “eternal life.”

The natural man is capable of acquiring by the use of his rational faculties, such an acquaintance with the truths of God’s Word, as is sufficient to make him responsible for his treatment of it. Not to enlarge upon other points, let’s take the doctrine which affirms the darkness of the human understanding, and the necessity of the enlightening grace of the Holy Spirit; this is often supposed to destroy the grounds of human responsibility in this respect. Unless man is taught by God, he cannot have such an experiential knowledge of that doctrine which belongs to the exercised believer, and probably he will not submit to it. But it is stated, nevertheless, in plain intelligible language. He cannot read his Bible without being made aware that it contains this truth. Nor can he exercise his understanding upon it, without acquiring some general knowledge of its import. And that knowledge, although neither spiritual nor saving, is amply sufficient as a ground of moral obligation.

And further, he may also learn from the same source, and in the same way, how the enlightening grace of the Spirit is obtained. For he cannot read such passages as these: “If any man lacks wisdom, let him ask it of God, who gives to all men liberally, and does not upbraid, and it shall be given him;” and “If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him;” — he cannot read such passages as these, without forming some notion of prayer as the means by which his natural darkness may be dispelled. And if notwithstanding his clear natural perception of such doctrines, he either refuses to believe them, or persists in neglecting prayer for the Holy Spirit — he must be dealt with hereafter on a very different principle, and tried by a very different rule of judgment from that which alone is applicable to those who have no Bible to teach them, or no rational mind to be taught You cannot have sat under a Gospel ministry for years without acquiring such knowledge as is abundantly sufficient to lay you under the most weighty responsibilities. It is a solemn reflection, that this knowledge must either prove “the savour of life unto life,” or “the savour of death unto death.” If it is not the means of your conversion, it will be the ground of your condemnation. “For this is the condemnation, that light has come into the world, and that men have loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. But he that loves the light, comes to the light;” and he that loves the light of the Gospel, will not shrink from the enlightening work of the Spirit.

Still, it must ever be remembered that whatever knowledge a natural man may acquire by the exercise of his rational faculties on the Word of God, that knowledge is neither spiritual nor saving, unless he is enlightened by the Spirit. If I were asked to state what the specific difference is between the natural and the spiritual knowledge of divine truth, or how they may best be distinguished from each other, I would feel the difficulty usually attendant on discriminating between two states of mind which have some common resemblance, and whose difference consists in a quality of which the natural man knows nothing, because he has no experience of it. Just as it is difficult to convey an idea of colour to the blind, or of music to the deaf, so it is difficult to describe to a natural man the peculiar perceptions of one whose eyes have been opened by the Spirit. And the difficulty is not diminished but increased by the fact that the natural man has a kind of knowledge in common with the true believer, and which is too apt to be mistaken for that which the Gospel requires.

Perhaps the nearest approach that we can make to an explanation, may be by asking you to conceive of a man who sees, but has no sense of beauty, or of a man who hears, but has no sense of harmony. Just such is the case of a natural man, who sees the truth without perceiving its spiritual excellence, and on whose ear the sound of the Gospel falls without awakening music in his soul. Saving knowledge is not a knowledge of the dead letter or outward form of the Gospel, but a knowledge of the truth in “the light, and lustre, and glory of it;” a “gustful knowledge” [18] which has in it a relish of the truth as being excellent: “O taste and see that the Lord is good.” It is “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” Just conceive of the different views of Christ which were entertained by those with whom he mingled in Judea, and this will help you understand the difference; or at least it will help you see that there is a difference between the one kind of knowledge and the other. All the Jews who saw Christ had some views concerning him. But to the carnal eye, “he had no form or attractiveness; and when they saw him, there was no beauty that they should desire him.” While to the spiritual eye, he was “fairer than ten thousand, and altogether lovely.” For the apostle says, “He dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” And just as it was then, so is it now — Christ, the sum and substance of the Gospel, came as the light, “and the darkness did not comprehend it” — “he was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world did not know him” — so the Gospel, which is Christ revealed, may be read and heard — yet “seeing, we may not perceive; and hearing, we may not understand,” until the Spirit “takes of the things of Christ and shows them to us” by “shining into our hearts.”

Another difference between the two kinds of knowledge, consists in this: that true spiritual light carries with it a self-evidencing power, and is accompanied with a heartfelt conviction of its certainty — a cordial belief of its truth. When the eye is opened to see the glory of the Gospel, the mind has an intuitive perception of its divine authority — it “commends itself to the conscience in the sight of God,” and the sinner feels that “God is in it truly.” God has magnified his Word above all his name;” it bears upon it a more striking impress of his divine perfections than any other manifestation by which He has ever made himself known. And when the eye is opened to perceive God’s glory in the face of Jesus Christ, the mind can no more believe that the Word could be written, than that the world could be framed, by any other than the omniscient One.

But the great discriminating test of the difference between the natural and spiritual knowledge of divine truth, is to be found in its practical influence and actual fruits. Spiritual light is accompanied with life and love — it is vital and powerful, transforming, renewing, purifying the soul in which it dwells. For if we behold the glory of God, we are thereby changed into the same image; we love what we discern to be good; we admire what we perceive to be excellent, we imitate and become conformed to what we love and admire. It is not a cold light like that of the moon or stars, but a lively light, accompanied with heat and warmth — vivifying, fructifying. It attunes all the faculties of the soul for the service of God, like the light that fell on the statue of Memnon, and awoke the chords of his sleeping lyre. [19]

The difference between the natural and spiritual knowledge of divine truth, is not only real but great. It is as the difference between darkness and light, or between night and day. Every natural man, however educated, is “alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in him.” He may be more learned in the letter of the Scriptures, more thoroughly furnished with all literary erudition, more scientific in his dogmatic orthodoxy, more eloquent in illustration and argument, than many of those who are “taught by God;” but “I say to you, he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” It is not a difference in degree, but in kind. In that which is common to both, the natural man may have a higher degree of learning than the spiritual; but in that which is peculiar to those who are taught by God, there is no room for comparison; — that kind of knowledge, although it too admits degrees as it is possessed by the people of God, belongs to no one else — to none but those who are taught by his Spirit. And this difference is great, insomuch that the people of God, whose eyes are opened to understand the Scriptures, are said to have “a new understanding given to them” — “the Son of God has come, and given us an understanding that we may know him that is true.” It is not that another faculty is created, but that the old one is thoroughly renewed. And this change is wrought on the understanding itself. It is not enough that the affections be disengaged from sin, so as to remove obstructions to the right operation of a mind which is supposed to be, in itself, “pure, noble, and untainted.” No, the understanding has shared in the ruins of the fall, and is itself perverted; and as such it must be renewed by Him who created it. Otherwise it will forever distort the light, however clearly it may shine from the page of Scripture.

As the understanding is the leading faculty of the soul, and plainly designed to influence, control, and govern every other by its light; so darkness here is the prolific cause of much moral and spiritual evil. The understanding must therefore be enlightened, if the heart is to be renewed. Spiritual darkness is spoken of in Scripture, not as a mere passive or negative thing, but as a positive power — “the power of darkness” is expressly mentioned, and the apostate angels are represented as kept in “chains of darkness,” as if it imposed fetters on the soul. And truly, none can break those fetters, but He who caused the iron chain to fall off the hands and feet of his imprisoned disciple.

Our apostasy from God is described as consisting chiefly in our spiritual darkness. The very end of our being was that we should “glorify God,” as intelligent creatures might and ought, by perceiving, adoring, and delighting in his glory; this is the highest exercise of angels and seraphim. And if a dark cloud now conceals from us his perfections — if we can have God present to our thoughts without perceiving his glory — then this is at once the evidence and the essence of our melancholy fall.

This darkness is not only the deadly shade under which our enmity to God finds a shelter and covering, but it is in some sense the cause of that enmity, inasmuch as it gives rise to innumerable prejudices against God, which feed it and keep it alive. It also gives rise to multiform delusions. These vary from the barest atheism, up to the most awful forms of superstition. And if these prejudices and these delusions are to be swept away, and if the enmity which they beget and nourish is to be slain, it must be by Him who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, shining into our hearts, to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

This illumination of the Spirit has reference to all Gospel truth, but is given in greater or lesser degrees, while in every instance it embraces whatever is necessary to be known and believed in order to salvation. “You have an unction from the Holy One, and you know all things.” “The anointing which you have received from Him abides in you; and you don’t need any man to teach you. But as the same anointing teaches you about all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it has taught you, you shall abide in Him.” From these words, it is plain that everyone who is taught by God, knows whatever is necessary to be believed in order to salvation, and that he is not left absolutely to depend on mere human teaching. But it is equally clear from the context, that this anointing does not supersede the use of such helps, and such means of information as God has graciously provided for his Church. On the contrary, the same apostle says, “I write to you fathers, because you have known him who is from the beginning; I write to you little children, because you have known the Father;” “I have not written to you because you don’t know the truth, but because you know it.” The apostle’s letter was designed and fitted for their instruction, and was useful not only in “stirring up their pure minds by way of remembrance,” but also in helping them to apply the truth to the exigencies of their condition — it exposed them to the seductions of false teachers, and enabled them to grow in the knowledge of God.

For among Christians there are degrees of spiritual light, just as among natural men there are degrees of secular knowledge. And the one kind of knowledge, no less than the other, allows for growth and increase, and depends on the use of ordinary means. We may know the Lord, like Apollos; and yet we may be brought, like him, to “know the way of the Lord more perfectly.” As the knowledge which is common to all who are taught by God, embraces whatever is necessary to be known and believed in order to salvation — while being imparted in greater or lesser degrees — there may be a diversity of opinion even among true Christians on points of minor importance. We see at once the origin and the nature of that wonderful uniformity of sentiment among them, which marks the unity of Christian faith in regard to all the fundamental truths of God’s Word. At the same time, we may reasonably expect to find a variety of opinions arising from different degrees of light, even among those who are in the main and substantially at one [with each other]. And this consideration ought to be improved [i.e., employed] as a lesson of universal charity and of mutual forbearance among the disciples of Christ.[20]

It is a precious Bible truth, that the enlightening grace of the Holy Spirit — although it is specially promised to the Gospel ministry as that by which alone their peculiar functions can be successfully exercised — is not confined to them, nor to any one class or order of men, but is common to all believers. Every private person — every humble man who takes his Bible in his hand, and retires to his closet to read and meditate on it there — is privileged to ask and to expect the teaching of the Spirit of God. “If ANY man lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men liberally, and does not upbraid; and it shall be given him.” The direct communication of every soul with God as “the Father of lights,” with Christ as “the light of the world,” and with the Holy Ghost as “the Spirit of truth,” shows what standing the Christian people have in the Christian Church; and that, although God has graciously provided ministerial helps and spiritual guides for them, he has not left them absolutely dependent on any order of men — still less has He subjected them to mere human authority in matters of faith: “their faith must not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.”

CHAPTER 5. The Work Of The Spirit In Convincing The Conscience.

It is part of the Spirit’s work to convince the soul of its sinfulness.

I. There is, indeed, a conscience in man, which fulfils alike the functions of a law, by prescribing the path of duty — and the functions of a judge, in pronouncing sentence against transgression — a conscience which impresses every man with a sense of right and wrong, and which often visits the sinner with the inward pangs of conviction and remorse.

But conscience, while it exists, and while it serves many useful purposes, is NOT SUFFICIENT in its present state to awaken the soul to a full sense of its real condition, although it is amply sufficient to render it responsible to God as a Judge, and to make it a fit subject for the convincing operations of his Spirit.

In its present state, it is not sufficient of itself, nor even when it is surrounded with the outward light of the Gospel, to awaken the soul to a due sense of its own sinfulness. This appears from various considerations:

1. It is manifest that conscience has shared, like every other faculty of our nature, in the ruinous effects of the fall; and the natural darkness of the soul prevents it from seeing its own corruption. It must be so, indeed, if by the fall we have lost the perception of God’s glory, or can no longer discern the excellency of his holiness; for our views of sin stand connected with, and must be affected by our views of God. One vivid view of his glorious character is sufficient to make the sinner tremble at the sight of his own vileness, and to exclaim with Job, “I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees you: I therefore abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” In so far, then, as the fall has “alienated us from the life of God through the ignorance that was in us, because of the blindness of our hearts,” it must have weakened in the same proportion, that power of moral perception, or that principle of conscience, which would convince the soul of its own sinfulness. And never, till it is restored to a spiritual acquaintance with God, will it come to see its guilt in all its loathsomeness and aggravations.

2. That the natural conscience, unaided by the Spirit of God, is not sufficient of itself to bring a man to a right sense of his own sinfulness, appears further from the tendency of habitual sin to sear and deaden the conscience. By this it comes to pass, according to the sovereign appointment of God, that conscience becomes proportionally weaker as sin grows stronger in the soul, till the sinner may arrive at a point of degeneracy at which he is wholly given over to a reprobate mind. He is so far from being condemned by his conscience, that he may dare to justify his wickedness by “calling good evil and evil good.” Instead of being ashamed of his guilt, he may even “glory in his shame.” We read of some whose “mind and conscience are defiled;” and of others “having their conscience seared with a hot iron” — the habitual practice of sin having a deadening influence over that principle by which alone sin is checked or condemned. This natural provision is in accordance with the great law of moral retribution which is laid down in Scripture — a law which ensures the progressive improvement of those who make a right use of the imperfect light they have, and the rapid degeneracy of those who corrupt or abuse it: “For whoever has, to him will be given; and whoever does not have, from him will be taken even that which he seems to have “(or thinks that he has). Now, if this is the natural law of conscience — that its moral perceptions become dead, and its condemning power becomes proportionally weak as the power of sin becomes habitual and inveterate — then it follows that the more need there is for a thorough work of conviction, the less it is to be expected from the mere operation of natural conscience; and that if the Spirit of God does not interpose, the case of such a soul is hopeless. But lest it be thought that this second proof applies only to the case of gross and hardened transgressors of the divine law, let me observe further —

3. That the experience of the more decent members of society, and even of many formal members of the Church, affords ample evidence that natural conscience, unenlightened by the Spirit of God, is not sufficient to convince the soul of its sinfulness. For it may be truly said of many such persons, that they have no just idea of sin, in its own nature and in all its manifestations, as an odious and hateful thing. Natural conscience in such men takes cognizance chiefly of gross outward transgressions. And of these, too, it is mainly as they stand connected with the peace and order of society, or with the decencies and proprieties of social life — it is a mere prudential reason. But it thinks little of sin as it appears in the sight of God; and still less of those heart-sins, and that radical depravity, from which all actual transgressions proceed. It condemns murder — but does it equally condemn pride? It condemns filial ingratitude and disobedience to an earthly parent — but does it equally condemn ungodliness, which is the natural element of every unrenewed mind, and which implies filial ingratitude and disobedience to our Father in heaven?

How can it discern the inherent turpitude of sin, unless it is taught the inherent loveliness of what is spiritual and divine? And where can this be learned, but from the teaching of the Spirit? In fact, the work of conviction implies a work of illumination, and is based upon it. It is by enlightening the mind to discern the truth, that the Spirit quickens the conscience; and so long as the mind remains in darkness, the conscience is prone to sleep. It is when the light of God shines into the heart, that his vicegerent there startles from his slumbers, and lifts a responsive voice to the call of his Master. And hence we read of an enlightened conscience — a conscience that pronounces truly when it is rightly informed.

4. The necessity of a convincing work of the Spirit further appears from the fact that it is the most difficult of all things to fix the mind of any man on a due consideration of sin. Try to fix your own mind for any length of time on a steady consideration of sin, or endeavour to fix the mind of any child, or servant, or friend you have on this exercise, and you will at once find that it is all but impossible to succeed. The mind recoils from it. It will dwell on the sins of others, especially if they have provoked its resentment by a sense of wrong done to itself; but it cannot dwell on sin in its own nature, and especially on its own sins — it flies off to some other and more inviting subject. Or instead of seeking to know the real state of the case, it busies itself in devising plausible excuses, and in putting blinds, as it were, on its own eyes. And so it is, even when the subject is forced on its attention, and the ear is compelled to listen to a full exposition of it. The most searching sermon fails to convince, unless it is carried home with demonstration of the Spirit and with power. How often the sinner hears that “every sin deserved the wrath and curse of God” — that it is “an abominable thing which the Lord hates” — that it is a “great wickedness” — a loathsome disease — a hell-deserving crime. And yet, either attaching no definite meaning to the plainest language that can be employed, or shifting the charge away from himself to others, or inwardly deceiving himself by some plausible pretext or other, he sits unawed and unmoved. He rises and retires to his home without one salutary conviction on his conscience — without one impression deep enough to trouble his peace. And hence the free proclamation of a free salvation passes unheeded, because as yet, he feels no need of a Saviour, and has no concern for his soul. If any sinner, then, is to be brought to such real heart concern about the state of his soul as is necessary for his thorough conversion, he must be convinced of sin by a power above that of mere natural conscience — even by the power of the Spirit of God.

II. In convincing of sin, the Spirit of God, acting agreeably to the moral constitution of our nature, takes the conscience as the subject of his operations, and seeks to enlighten, quicken, and invigorate it by the light and power of divine truth.

It is the conscience that is the subject of his operation. It is the moral faculty — the faculty of discriminating between right and wrong, which makes us fit subjects for the convincing work of the Spirit. If we had no conscience, we would be incapable of moral convictions — as are the living but irresponsible beasts of the field, and fowls of the air. But under the ashes of our ruined nature, there are certain “sparks of celestial fire,” the lights of conscience which, dim and decayed, are not yet extinguished; and which render us responsible on the one hand, and susceptible of being renewed on the other. And just as natural reason is capable of discerning spiritual things when it is enlightened by the Spirit; so natural conscience is capable of discerning the evil of sin, when it is rectified and strengthened by the Spirit.

But while conscience is the subject of true conviction, the Spirit of God is the author of it. He works in and by the conscience. So that, while the Spirit reproves and convicts the sinner, the sinner is self-reproved and self-condemned. The conscience is quickened by the Spirit out of that lethargy into which it had fallen through the benumbing influence of sin; it is invigorated and reinforced with new energy by the Spirit, having fresh life and power infused into it; it is called into action on its appropriate objects by the Spirit, and steadily enabled to view the sins with which the transgressor is chargeable; and above all, it is enlightened by the Spirit, so as to discern sin in the light of truth. Thus conscience, once darkened, and inert, and powerless, acquires prodigious energy, and becomes one of the most active and powerful principles of the soul — prescribing the law, and pronouncing the sentence of judgment in that inner chamber of judicature from which there lies no appeal, but to God himself. Conscience, once awakened by a ray of spiritual light, is an awful thing. And what tremendous power it may acquire when it is quickened by the Spirit, may be inferred from the energy which it puts forth when it is called into action by the reproofing of mere human faithfulness.

Let a man commit a secret sin, and so long as no human eye was supposed to be privy to his guilt, he may contrive to lull his conscience to sleep. But let a friend charge him with the act, or even hint a suspicion of it, and the mantling cheek,[21] the agitated look, the trembling frame, will at once evince how one’s conscience may be quickened into tremendous action by a ray of light passing to it from another mind. And successful as he may have been in quelling his own remorseful thoughts by devising palliations of his guilt, he will no longer attempt to deny the sinfulness of the fact. He will rather try to disprove the fact itself, as the only possible way of escaping from the sure decision of another man’s conscience on his case. This instructive and familiar example shows that, all along, conscience is alive in the sinner’s breast — not dead, but asleep. And how easily it may be awakened into vigorous conviction by a single ray of heaven’s light piercing through the veil of nature’s darkness, by the power of the Spirit of God.

The Spirit of God thus quickens the conscience by the light and power of divine truth. The truth is the instrument by which this change is wrought. He reproves by enlightening. He reaches the conscience through the medium of the understanding. It is not a mere physical change, or a change wrought out in a way that is contrary to the laws of our moral nature; but a moral change accomplished by moral means, adapted to that nature, and fitted for the purpose for which they are employed. He finds entrance for the light of truth, and the conscience once enlightened acts its appropriate part, and pronounces its unerring sentence.

The truths of God’s Word are the means of conviction, and almost every one of these truths may be employed for this end. The principal means of conviction is the law — the law of God in its purity, spirituality, and power; for “by the law is the knowledge of sin,” and “the law is our schoolmaster to bring us to Christ.” The law in its holy commandment — the law in its awful curse — the law in its spiritual nature, as reaching to the heart, and in all its length and breadth as extending over every department of human life — the law in its condemning power, by which “every mouth must be stopped, and all the world must become guilty before God.” This law is unfolded to the understanding, and applied to the conscience by the Holy Spirit. And it convinces immediately, by its own self-evidencing light. The conscience is constrained to do homage to the law, and to acknowledge that “the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good.” While self-convicted and self-condemned, the sinner exclaims, “But I am carnal, sold under sin.” And yet it is not a new law, nor one of which the sinner had till then been entirely ignorant, that becomes the means of his conviction. He may have read and repeated the Ten Commandments a hundred times, and may be familiar with the letter of God’s requirements. And yet some one of these very commandments may now become like an arrow in his conscience — the very sword of the Spirit. A notional acquaintance with the law is one thing — a spiritual experience of its power is another.

Witness the case of the Apostle Paul — an educated man; brought up at the feet of Gamaliel; walking from youth upwards according to the strictest sect of the law; a Pharisee — who can doubt that he was familiar with the letter of God’s law? Yet, being destitute of any spiritual experience of its power, he regarded himself as having been without any due knowledge of the law, till he was taught by the Spirit of God. For he says, “I was alive without the law once; but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.” Previously he had only that notional and common knowledge which he describes elsewhere as “the form of knowledge, and of the truth in the law.” And what was it that converted the form into substance? It was one of those very commandments which he had often read and repeated, without perceiving its spiritual import, or feeling its convincing power. “I would not have known sin but by the law; for I would not have known lust, unless the law had said, You shall not covet.” He seizes the Tenth Commandment — a commandment which directly refers to the state of a man’s heart. And finding that his heart cannot stand the test of a law so pure and spiritual, he is inwardly convinced of sin, as well as made conscious of its power. And so is every sinner who obtains a glimpse of the real nature of the divine law which, like its heart-searching Author, is heart-searching too. He must in an instant feel that if this law is the rule of judgment, then “by the deeds of the law no flesh living shall be justified;” for “all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.”

But when it is said that the law is the principal means by which the Spirit of God convinces the conscience of a sinner, that term most be understood in an enlarged sense. It includes under it, every principle which has any relation or affinity to the conscience, and every fact in which any such principle is involved. It is not the bare law, as it stands declared in the Ten Commandments, that is the sole instrument of conviction. Rather, it is the moral principle of that law — whether displayed in the retributions of a righteous Providence, or illustrated by the afflictions of human life, or exemplified in the conduct of believers and the perfect pattern of Christ, or as unfolded in the parables, or as embodied in the Gospel and shining forth in the Cross. The law is a schoolmaster that brings the sinner to Christ; but Christ is a teacher that brings the sinner to know the law as he never knew it before. The law points the eye of a convinced sinner to the cross; but the cross throws upon his conscience a flood of light, which sheds a reflex lustre on the law.

Hence, we believe that the Gospel of Christ, and especially the doctrine of the Cross of Christ, is the most powerful instrument for impressing the conscience of a sinner, and for turning his convictions into genuine contrition of heart. And this is because the Gospel, and especially the doctrine of the cross, contains in it the spirit and essence of the law. It recognises and proceeds upon the moral principles of God’s government, and affords a new and most impressive manifestation of the holiness of the Lawgiver, and the turpitude of sin — while at the same time, it unfolds such a proof of the compassion and love of God, as is peculiarly fitted to melt and subdue the heart, which the mere terrors of the law might only turn into a more hardened and unrelenting obduracy.[22] Let the sinner who makes light of sin, turn his eye to the cross of Christ, and he will see there, as well as amidst the thunderings and the lightnings of Sinai, that the Lord is a jealous God — that sin is the abominable thing which He hates — and that He is resolved, at all hazards, and notwithstanding whatever suffering it may occasion, to visit it with condign[23] punishment.

Let him look to the cross, and behold there, suspended on that accursed tree, the Son of God himself. Let him listen to the words which fell from that illustrious sufferer in the midst of his agony and passion, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And let him then inquire, why was it that this one, of whom it had been once and again proclaimed from the highest heavens, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased,’’ and of whom it is recorded that once and again, on his bended knees, and with all the earnestness of importunate supplication, he had prayed in the garden, “O my Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me;” — why was it that he, who was thus affectionately spoken of as God’s beloved Son, and who, as a Son, so submissively poured out his heart into a Father’s ear, was nevertheless subjected to the agony and death of the cross? And when, in reply to all his inquiries, the Bible declares that the Son of God suffered because he had consented to become chargeable with sin; — that he “who knew no sin was made sin for us;” and that therefore, “it pleased the Lord to bruise him, and to put him to grief;” — that “he was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities;” — and that he died because the wages of sin is death. Oh! doesn’t the sinner now feel in his inmost soul, that if Sinai is dreadful, Calvary has its terrors too — that if “by the law is the knowledge of sin,” the Gospel adds its sublime and harmonious commentary — that the cross of Christ is the most awful monument of Heaven’s justice, the most solemn memorial of the sinner’s danger.

And does the sinner not infer, with all the quickness of intuition, that if sin was not spared, nor left unpunished, but visited with condemnation and death when it was imputed to God’s own, his only, his well-beloved Son — then much less will sin, unexpiated and unforgiven, be spared or left unpunished when, after this solemn work of atonement, God arises to plead with those who cling to that accursed thing which nailed the Saviour to the tree?

The cross — the cross of a crucified Saviour — is the most powerful, the most impressive demonstration of sin, and righteousness, and judgment. The cross may well alarm every sleeping sinner, and awaken every slumbering conscience, and stir into agitation and tumult every listless and impenitent heart. It is the law by which we obtain the knowledge of sin; but the law is magnified in the cross; and it is the law in the cross that carries home to every awakened conscience, the most alarming convictions of guilt. Can I hope to be spared, one may ask, when “God did not spare his own Son?” Are my sins venial, or light? These sins of mine were enough, when transferred to the Son of God, to nail him to the tree! May I venture into eternity in the hope that my sins may be forgotten there? And why were they remembered here, when God’s Son ascended the hill of Calvary? May not the strictness of God’s law be relaxed in my favour? But why, oh why, was it not relaxed in favour of Christ?

No; that one fact — that awful cross which was erected on the hill beside Jerusalem — annihilates every ground of careless security — tears from me every rag by which I would seek to cover my shame — drives me from every refuge to which I would repair. That one fact, that Christ died for sin, shuts me up to the conviction that, as a sinner, I stand exposed to the wrath and curse of an offended God; and that the outraged law must receive a full and final vindication. But must it be by my personal and everlasting punishment? Yes, assuredly, if I stand on the footing of law. For “the soul that sins, shall die.” But look again to that mysterious cross. Amidst the darkness which surrounds it, and the awful manifestations of God’s wrath which the sufferer felt, a light breaks forth — glorious as the sun shining in its strength — unlike the lightnings which flashed around Sinai — this is the Sun of Righteousness rising with healing in its beams — the effulgent light of God’s love — the glorious manifestation of God’s grace and mercy; for “God so loved the world as to give his Son.” Look once more; for the same cross which wounds, will also heal; the same conscience which is pierced by the arrows of conviction, may be pacified by the Gospel of peace. And thus, all that is terrible in the cross, when combined with the tenderness of God’s mercy, and the amazing, the self-denying, the self-sacrificing love of the Saviour, will then only awaken convictions in the conscience, to melt and change them into sweet contrition of heart.

It is thus that, under the Gospel dispensation, the Spirit of God continues the conscience by pressing home the eternal and unchangeable principles of the law, as these are embodied, illustrated, and displayed in a new and better dispensation. It is not the naked law, but the law in all its forms and manifestations, and especially the law in the facts and truths of the Gospel, which is thus used. For the Spirit reproves the world of sin. — Why? because they do not believe in me; of righteousness, because I go to my Father; of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged — all having reference to Christ and his cross.

III. The work of conviction — of which the conscience is the subject, the Spirit the author, and the light of truth the means — consists in impressing the soul with a sense of its own sinfulness, and exciting in it some suitable feelings of fear, and shame, and self-condemnation.

Sin, when presented to the mind in the light of conscience, and especially in the light of God’s truth unfolded and applied by the Spirit, is discerned to be a vile and odious thing. And for this, a principal part of the Spirit’s work in conviction is to set before the sinner’s mind a discovery of sin in its own nature, and to fix him on a due consideration of it. This, as we have already seen, is an exercise in which every sinner is most unwilling to be engaged. He shrinks from the subject — he would willingly forget it. And even when it is presented to his mind, he is prone to take partial views of it, and especially to excuse and exculpate himself. But God is often pleased to take the sinner into his own hands, and to press him with “line upon line, and precept upon precept,” until he is made to see sin in its true character, and especially to see his own sinfulness. God brings his sins before him, and presses them on his attention. “These things you have done, and I kept silence; you thought that I was altogether such a one as yourself; but I will reprove you, and set them in order before your eyes.” “Now consider this, you who forget God — lest I tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver you.” Formerly the sinner seldom thought of sin — now he might say with David, “My sin is ever before me.”

There are many different ways in which the mind may thus be awakened to a sense of its guilt. Sometimes it is occasioned, in the first instance, by some gross outward sin, too flagrant to pass altogether unreproved by the most sluggish conscience. And this may lead the sinner to reflect what the state of his heart must be, and what his desert must be at the hand of God. Sometimes it is by a growing sense of his inherent depravity, strengthened every day by his experience of the instability of his best resolutions, and the weakness of his highest efforts after amendment. Sometimes it is by a faithful reproof from a friend, which conveys to his conscience the startling intimation that his character is not so highly esteemed by others as it is by himself. This sets him on an inquiry, and awakens self-distrust. Sometimes it is by a searching sermon — an awakening providence — by the judgments which God executes on others; by distress sent into his own family; or by being brought to the borders of the grave himself — when in spite of himself, he is compelled to think of God, and sin, and judgment to come.

In short, almost any text in the Bible, and almost any event in life, may be the occasion of calling the conscience into action, and pressing home his own sinfulness upon his attention. The Spirit of God arrests and fixes it, till the sinner makes a discovery of sin that is suited to his case. In the quaint, but striking and comprehensive words of an eminent commentator,[24]

“The Spirit convinces of the fact of sin, that we have done so and so; of the fault of sin, that we have done ill in doing so; of the folly of sin, that we have acted against right reason and our true interest; of the filth of sin, that by it we have become odious to God; of the fountain of sin, which is the corrupt nature; and lastly, of the fruit of sin, that its end is death.”

Sin, thus presented to the mind, and revealed somewhat in its native deformity, is applied to the conscience, so as to excite some suitable feelings of fear, and shame, and self-condemnation.

No such feelings can be awakened until the sinner has some sight of the evil of sin, and some conviction of his own sinfulness. All the thunders of Sinai, and all the threatenings of the law, and all the curses that are written in this book, and all the terrors of a judgment to come, may fall upon his ear without awakening any serious concern, until conscience is roused within, and it responds to the voice of God above. An unconvinced conscience is utterly insensible: blinded by sin, it cannot see; and hardened by sin, it cannot feel. This deep insensibility — this stupid lethargy — this deadness of the conscience to all sense of fear and shame, arises from IGNORANCE of God’s character and law; — or from UNBELIEF which, in spite of all testimonies to the contrary, refuses to acknowledge God as a righteous Governor and Judge who will assuredly bring every sinner to judgment, and punish every sin; — or SELF-DELUSION, by which many a sinner flatters himself that however it may fare with others, he has no reason to fear; — or some FALSE PERSUASION in religion, which acts as an opiate to all conviction, such as the persuasion that God is too merciful to punish, or too great to mark the commission of sin; or the persuasion that an orthodox profession, a correct exterior, or regular attendance to ordinances, will secure his safety. Alas! how many a conscience is lulled to sleep by such delusions. And how often these delusions serve, like so many shields, to ward off and repel the sharpest arrows of the Spirit! Under their fatal influence, the conscience may remain insensible till the sinner’s dying hour. Indeed, death itself will not arouse it, nor will it feel its own guilt and danger till the realities of eternity are disclosed.

Hence you hear of the calm and unruffled indifference with which many a wicked man meets his death — the apathy and unconcern with which he can look back on a life of sin, even when he stands at the brink of the grave. And you may often wonder at this, and be ready to exclaim, How does it happen that “the wicked have no pangs in their death,” if there is a Judge above, and a living conscience within? I answer that here, in this very spectacle — in this very insensibility — this deathlike apathy of the sinner’s conscience at that solemn hour, you have just one of the most affecting manifestations of the righteous retribution of God. It is the manifest effect of that great law of conscience, by which it is ordained that someone who has long resisted the light, will be left in darkness; and that by stifling his conscience, “he is given over to a reprobate mind.” He has no sight of his own sin — no shame — no fear — just because his conscience has been blinded or stifled, or because he is deceiving himself with some false persuasion of his safety. Oh! let it not be said that a hardened conscience, which is insensible alike to the fear and the shame of guilt, is an enviable thing; or that it may not be the worst, the last stage of a man’s degeneracy. For the loss of shame is the crowning proof of long-continued sin.

Mark, I pray you, the course of a wicked man. Behold him first as an infant, clinging fondly to a mother’s breast, and gladly returning a mother’s smile. Behold him as a boy, in all the buoyancy of youthful health, with a heart as yet unscathed by the habits of sin, and alive to every generous impulse. He is so sensitive to praise or blame, that a word, a look, will elevate or deject them. Follow him onwards for a few years, when yielding to the current of this world’s wickedness, he plunges into its deadly waters. See him when he returns from the haunts of vice, to his once happy hearth. Now, instead of being touched with a mother’s love, or awed by a father’s look, the sternest reproof falls unheeded on his ear. His whole bearing shows that he is beyond the strongest of all influences — the influence of home. He may still be alive to the opinion of others, and especially he wants to stand well in the estimation of his companions — if not for temperance, chastity, and religion, then for truth, honour, and kindness of heart. But as he advances in the fatal path, truth and honour, and kindness of heart, are all sacrificed on the shrine of self-indulgence. He is separated by his own vices, from the companionship of equals. And now, descending rapidly, he loses all regard for God and man, and becomes utterly reckless. And when urged by want or passion, he commits some fatal crime, he feels perhaps less compunction for shedding the blood of man, than he felt in other days for a youthful folly. And when charged, convicted, and condemned, he may enter his cell, and walk to the gallows, amidst crowds of awestruck spectators, with no other feeling than the mere shrinking of the flesh from suffering — with neither shame, nor fear, nor self-condemnation in his heart of stone!

But when the sinner obtains a sight of the evil of sin, and especially of his own sinfulness, his convictions are attended with some suitable feelings or emotions, such as fear, shame, and self-condemnation. These feelings are the suitable, and in one sense, the natural attendants of conviction. When sin stands disclosed, especially in the light of God’s truth, it throws a dark shadow upon the sinner’s soul, which overawes, agitates, and terrifies him. Conviction produces shame; for sin is seen to be a vile and loathsome thing — and the soul, which is covered with sin, is felt to be vile and loathsome too. Conviction produces fear; for a sense of guilt is inseparably connected through conscience, with a sense of danger. And conviction produces self-condemnation. For it is not in the reproof of another, not even in the reproof of God himself, but reproof so applied as to become his own decision upon his own case, that conviction for sin consists.

Now these feelings, in a greater or lesser degree, are the appropriate and natural concomitants of conviction, by whatever means the conscience may come to be convinced. Let the conscience, whether acting by its own energy or as quickened by the Spirit of God, obtain a realizing conviction of sin, and it immediately pronounces a condemning sentence, and awakens shame and fear. And that, too, is when the sinner’s personal habits, and his known opinions, and general circumstances in the world, would seem to make such a visitation the most unlikely. Take a few familiar but striking illustrations from the Word of God.

Fear and shame were alike unknown in a state of conscious innocency. But our first parents sinned, and immediately conscience called forth into action these latent feelings of their souls — “The eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked;” — there was shame — the firstfruit of sin. “And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day; and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. And the Lord God called to Adam, and said to him, Where are you? And he said, I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself;” — there was shame mingled with fear.

The Scribes and Pharisees brought an adulterous woman to Christ, demanding to know what sentence should be pronounced against her. Jesus answered, “He that is without sin among you, let him cast a stone at her first;” and immediately those who heard it — the self-righteous Pharisees — “being convicted by their own conscience, went out, one by one, beginning at the eldest even to the last; and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst.” Here we see conscience breaking through all the fences of self-righteous security, and compelling the guilty to retire in self-confusion from the presence of the Lord.

A lawyer came to Christ, and “stood up and tested him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answered, “What is written in the law? How do you read it? And when he had given his own account of the law, and in his own words, Jesus said, “you have answered rightly; do this and you shall live.” But it is added that, not content with this sentence of approbation, the man was willing to justify himself. — Why, if not that while Christ pronounced an approving sentence on the law which the lawyer explained, conscience pronounced another — a condemning sentence on himself as a conscious transgressor of that law? And in seeking to justify himself, when Christ had brought no charge against him — indeed, when Christ had expressly said, “you have answered rightly; do this and you shall live” — it proves that every sinner, however self-righteous, carries about with him an inward witness which no sooner sees the pure light of God’s law, than it becomes an accuser. And in spite of all the sophistry of self-deceit, it forces him to at least excuse, exculpate, and extenuate his guilt, if he would ward off or escape from a sentence of self-condemnation!

Herod the Tetrarch belonged to the family party (or sect) of Herodians, who were opposed to the Pharisees in many respects. And in religious matters, he seems to have been associated with the sceptical Sadducees,[25] who believed neither in angel, nor spirit, nor the resurrection from the dead. Yet, no sooner did he hear of the miracles of Jesus, than his guilty conscience, bursting the flimsy covering of unbelief, forced him to exclaim, “It is John whom I beheaded: he is risen from the dead;” — “John the Baptist is risen from the dead, and therefore mighty works show themselves in him.” Mark the power of conscience — how it startles from its sleep, and fastens on this guilty sinner, and raises up imaginary terrors around him, and makes him believe (against his professed creed) in the reappearance and resurrection of that faithful messenger whose head he had severed from his body, but whose holy form still haunted his presence, and scared his peace!

“A band of men and officers,” with lanterns, and torches, and weapons, came to the garden of Gethsemane by night, for the purpose of apprehending Jesus. “Whom do you seek?” asked the meek and lowly Saviour. “Jesus of Nazareth,” was the reply. “I am he,” answered that same calm voice. But it was a voice of power, that spoke like thunder to their consciences — for “as soon as he had said to them, I am he, they went backward, and fell to the ground.” Behold the power of conscience, awakening fear, and agitation, and awe, and throwing a band of officers and armed men to the ground before a defenceless and unresisting captive!

Judas was with the band of soldiers on that fearful night — Judas, who had associated with the Lord for years — who had covenanted with his persecutors to betray him for money — who now marked him out by the preconcerted sign, “Hail, Master,” and kissed him. Oh! it might be thought that a conscience which had for years resisted the light of the Saviour’s teaching, and witnessed the blessed example of his holy life, and stood firm against the melting tenderness of his love — that a conscience which left him free to form his unhallowed purpose, and to plan the mode of its execution, and to take the price of blood, and to kiss the Saviour in Gethsemane — that a conscience so steeped in guilt, might have acquired an obduracy which no subsequent reflection could overcome — that if his conscience didn’t trouble him now in the act of treachery, it might never trouble him more. But even in the breast of Judas, conscience was not dead, but asleep. And it awoke with terrific power, when his purpose had been safely carried into effect. If you would see the self-condemning power of God’s vicegerent in the guiltiest heart, look to that traitor and apostate who, when Jesus’ eyes were now sealed in death, whose mild look of reproof might have withered his soul within him — when the tongue which spoke as never man spoke, was silent as the grave — felt a new power rising within his own bosom, which condemned him. And under the burden of his own remorse, shame, and fear, “he repented himself, and brought back the thirty pieces of silver, and said, I have sinned in that I have betrayed innocent blood. And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.”

I have referred to these scriptural examples of conviction, for the purpose of showing that fear, shame, and self-condemnation, are its appropriate and suitable attendants; and to show that these harrowing feelings are immediately produced in the soul, when at any time, and by any means, it obtains a view of its own sinfulness. There may be no sense of sin — and then there will be no sense of fear, or shame, or self-condemnation. But let a sense of sin be awakened, and these emotions will spring up instantaneously along with it. Now, this sight and sense of his own sinfulness may be awakened at any time. It may be awakened suddenly, and when it is least expected. A single text of Scripture, a faithful sermon, an awakening providence, a vivid view of God’s justice, a solemn thought of eternity — any one of these may break up the false security of a sinner, while the Spirit of God has at all times access to his conscience, and can disturb, and trouble, and arouse it. The unbeliever has really no security for one hour’s continuance in peace, thoughtless and unconcerned as he is — unawed either by the rebukes of conscience, or the authority of God, or the terrors of a judgment to come. He may at any time be made to feel a power rising up within — a power long dormant, but now roused into tremendous action — a power which troubles his soul, and brings over it a horror of thick darkness, and a cloud of appalling terrors. It overwhelms him now with shame under a sense of his vileness, and now with fear under a sense of his danger — a power which gives to every long-forgotten sin a new place in his memory, and brings the whole train of his sins to pass in dark array before him, and imparts to each of them a scorpion’s sting — a power from whose presence he cannot flee, for it is within him. And go where he will, he must carry it along with him.

And it has this mysterious prerogative: that while the conscience asserts a supremacy over every other faculty of his nature, and a right to judge and condemn every violation of its authority, it makes him feel that he is not dealing with himself only, but with God, the Judge of all. He would willingly make light of sin, as before; but now sin has become a burden too heavy for him to bear. He would laugh at his fears, as the phantoms of superstition, but something within tells him they are too real to be scorned. He would brave it out among his cheery companions, as he did formerly, and show no touch of shame. But his soul sinks in the effort, and loathes itself and everything it once loved: “a wounded spirit, who can bear?” No tongue of man can utter, no heart of man conceive, the intolerable anguish of conviction, when an awakened conscience rages unpacified within. What must it be like with the conscience of an unbeliever, when from the lips of God’s own people, while they lay under a passing cloud of conviction, such words as these were extorted by its power:

“When I kept silence, my bones grew old through my roaring all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my moisture is turned into the drought of summer.”

“O Lord, do not rebuke me in your wrath, nor chasten me in your hot displeasure;”

“For your arrows stick fast in me, and your hand presses me sorely. There is no soundness in my flesh because of your anger, nor is there any rest in my bones because of my sin. For my iniquities have gone over my head: as a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.”

“I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly, I go mourning all day long.”

“I am feeble and sorely broken; I have roared because of the disquietness of my heart.”

On another occasion:

“I remembered God and was troubled. I complained and my spirit was overwhelmed. You hold my eyes waking; I am so troubled that I cannot speak.”

“Will the Lord cast off forever? And will he be favourable no more? Has his mercy clean gone forever? Does his promise fail forevermore? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his tender mercies?”

And so Job in a like case:

“The arrows of the Almighty are within me, the poison of which drink up my spirit; the terrors of God set themselves in array against me... For you write bitter things against me, and make me possess the iniquities of my youth.”

If conscience has the power to awaken such feelings of shame, dread, and self-condemnation, in the case even of righteous men when visited with a temporary withdrawal of the light of God’s countenance, then oh! what its power must be when it is awakened in the case of impenitent and unpardoned sinners? And awakened it must be, sooner or later — and if not sooner, then certainly not later than the hour when, leaving this world and entering into the world of spirits, the realities of eternity will burst at once on their view.

Even in the case of men who are never savingly converted, conviction of sin may not be the mere fruit of natural conscience, but the effect of a common work of the Spirit on their minds. Many seem to suppose that the Spirit of God never operates except where he accomplishes the whole work of conversion. But there are not a few passages in Scripture which seem to imply that souls which are never converted, may nevertheless be the subjects of His convincing power. They are convinced and reproved, not only by the light of natural conscience, nor only by the outward light of God’s Word, but by the inward application of that truth to their consciences, by the power of the Spirit of God. It is surely not unreasonable to believe that the Spirit of God may operate on their minds in the same way and to the same extent (although for a very different end) as Satan does — the spirit that now works in the children of disobedience. The Spirit may be presenting the truth even as Satan presents falsehood — applying the motives of conversion even as Satan urges the allurements of sin — while the sinner’s mind is left to make its choice.

Accordingly, we read of unrenewed men who, under a common work of the Spirit, were once “enlightened, and tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost,’’ who nevertheless were not renewed unto repentance, nor thoroughly converted to God. We read of some “who sin wilfully after they have received the knowledge of the truth,” and who, on that account, are described as “doing insult to the Spirit of grace.” (Heb 10.29) Such persons were not savingly converted, for none who have been renewed and sanctified by the grace of the Spirit, will ever fall away, or come into condemnation. But notwithstanding, they shared in that work of the Spirit which is ordinarily preparatory to conversion — they may have had some knowledge, some conviction, some impressions from the Spirit of grace. And these are in their own nature good and useful, having a tendency and fitness as a means to prepare their minds for a greater change. And if they fail to subdue their wills to the obedience of Christ, they will at least serve to make it manifest that nothing but their own unwillingness stood in the way of their being saved. When such convictions decay and die without saving fruit, it is because they are not suitably improved or submissively followed. For it is the law of Christ’s kingdom, that one talent suitably improved, procures another; while the neglect of it, incurs its forfeiture — “to him that has, will be given, and he will have more abundantly; but from him who does not have, what he has will be taken away.’’ “For the earth which drinks in the rain that comes often upon it, and brings forth herbs fit for those by whom it is dressed, receives blessing from God; but that which bears thorns and briers is rejected, and is near to being cursed, whose end is to be burned.”

It appears, then, that the minds of unconverted men may be the subjects of conviction, of which the Spirit of God himself is the author. And they are responsible not only for the light of natural conscience, nor only for the light of God’s Word, but for that light and those convictions which the Spirit may awaken in their souls. And if this common operation of the Spirit stops short of conversion, it is not because the same motives are not presented to their minds, as to those of other men who are savingly changed — but from their own stubbornness in resisting these motives; and because their will stands against the work of the Spirit. Here lies the radical difference between the converted and the unconverted: both may be the subjects of a convincing work of the Spirit — but in the one, the will is stubborn and refuses to yield; while in the other, the will is effectually subdued by God’s sovereign grace, so as to concur with his holy design. So that, a real willingness to be renewed and sanctified is the characteristic mark of a new creature. Hence, those in whom the conscience is convinced, while the will is unsubdued, are described thus: “But they rebelled, and vexed his Holy Spirit; therefore he was turned to be their enemy, and He fought against them.” “You stiff-necked, and uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Ghost.” And the apostle warns even the professing followers of Christ, in these solemn word — “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God” — “Do not quench the Spirit.”

IV. The work of conviction may be carried on in various ways, and may differ greatly in different cases. But in some degree, it is necessary to a saving work of conversion in all. It may be commenced and carried on in various ways. Sometimes it comes on a hardened sinner in advanced life like a sudden flash of lightning from heaven. Sometimes it is implanted like a seed, in the soul of a child, which grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength. Sometimes it is occasioned by one gross actual sin, which overwhelms the mind with a sense of its guilt and danger — at other times, by a calm review of the whole of a man’s experience, which impresses his mind with a sense of the radical corruption of his nature. Sometimes the sins of youth are recalled and set in order before him. At other times his neglect of Gospel grace, his forgetfulness of prayer, his misimprovement of privileges, his frequent declensions, his broken resolutions, his unfulfilled engagements, his unsanctified Sabbaths, his ingratitude for mercies, his inattention to the voice of judgment or of mercy, a fit of sickness, or the dangerous illness of a wife or friend, or the thought of death, or a vivid view of God’s justice or of the Saviour’s love — in any one, or all of these various ways, sound conviction may be wrought in the conscience.

It differs, too, in its degree and duration in different cases. Some are brought through deep waters — others are more gently conducted to the Saviour. Fear, and shame, and self-condemnation, are inseparable from deep conviction, where it exists by itself and without a knowledge of the Saviour. But they may be wrought in a greater or lesser degree, and in some cases they are immediately swallowed up in a sense of redeeming love.

I mention these diversities in the experience of different men, with the view of removing a stumbling block which has often given uneasiness — a mistake which has often been injurious to the sincere believer. When they hear that conviction is essential to conversion, and when they further hear or read of the sharp convictions, the deep distress of mind, the fearful terrors which some have experienced, many have been ready to question the soundness, or at least the sufficiency of their own convictions, because they find nothing corresponding to it in their own experience. For their relief and comfort, let me assure them that if they are really convinced and humbled on account of sin, it matters little whether their experience corresponds in all respects with the experience of other men or not. Indeed, so varied are the operations of the same Spirit, “who divides to every man severally as he will,” that it is impossible that their experience can correspond with that of all other believers. God’s Spirit deals with each according to his own necessities, and the work to which he is called. Sometimes he leads a sinner to heaven by the very gates of hell — to strong faith, through the fiery furnace of unbelief; to the heights of holy love, through the depths of wrath. [26] At other times, conviction is no sooner awakened than it is allayed (at least in its painful agitations and fears) by the healing voice of mercy. You may think, indeed, that your convictions ought to be much deeper — your fears more alarming, your sorrow more intense, your self-reproof more severe. But let it be remembered that mere fear and sorrow “do not belong to the precept, but to the curse;” they are not so much “required as inflicted on the sinner.” And if you have a deliberate and abiding conviction of your own sinfulness, accompanied with a persuasion that you are thereby worthy of punishment, and capable of being saved only through the mercy of God, you have the substance of true conviction, and need not perplex yourselves about its mode or form.

But some such conviction of sin is essential, and cannot be dispensed with. The very nature of conversion presupposes it. No sinner will ever receive Christ as a Saviour, until he is convinced that he needs to be saved; and this implies a conviction of his guilt, a sense of his danger, and a persuasion of the absolute impossibility of saving himself.

V. The RESULT or ISSUE of this work of conviction, while in some respects it is the same in all, it is in others (and this is of the highest importance) different in different men.

In some respects it produces similar effects in all who are the subjects of it. Of these we may mention the feelings of fear, shame, and self-condemnation, formerly noted. In some degree, greater or lesser, these are experienced by every convinced sinner. They correspond with “the Spirit of bondage unto fear” spoken of by the apostle, and are the effect of the law applied by the Spirit, and the utmost that the mere law can produce. Besides this, there is an inward conflict between sin and the conscience. It is a conflict which is widely different, and must be carefully distinguished from that other conflict which the apostle speaks of, as being carried on in the soul of the true believer — which is a warfare, not between sin and the conscience, but between sin and the will. The unconverted man may have little or no experience of this latter conflict; but every convinced sinner is conscious of the former. He feels that conscience and sin are at war within him; that while sin enrages and exasperates the conscience, conscience denounces and condemns the sin. So that he is torn and rent by two antagonistic forces, and his inward peace is destroyed. All this may consist with the prevailing love and power of sin; the will may still be on sin’s side, while conscience stands opposed to it. Remorse and even sorrow may also be felt — that remorse which has no affinity with true repentance — and that sorrow of the world, which works death. Indeed, under the influence of conviction, many an unconverted man may form the resolution, and make some efforts after amendment of life. These quickly come to nothing, being based on a spirit of self-sufficiency, and having no dependence on the sanctifying grace of God, and being unaccompanied with earnest prayer for the Spirit. He returns “like a dog to its vomit, and like a sow that was washed, to his wallowing in the mire.”

Now, at this point, the one stem or stock of conviction divides into two great branches — one which brings forth the fruit of repentance, and another which ends in the production of final reprobation. Both may be covered with the buds and blossom of a fair profession; but the fruit is widely different. The contrast between the two is finely exemplified by the opposite effects of the same truth, as declared by Peter and Stephen respectively. When Peter preached, the Jews were “pricked in their hearts,” and began to inquire in earnest, What must we do to be saved? But when Stephen preached, they were “cut to the heart,” and yet they only gnashed at him with their teeth (Acts 2.37; 7.54).

With one class, conviction of sin stops short of thorough conversion. Such conviction was salutary in itself, and had a tendency to lead the sinner onward to a happy change. But its power is resisted — its suggestions stifled — its voice drowned by the clamour of unruly passions. Such convictions are like the startling of a man asleep, who quickly turns himself back onto his pillow, and sinks again into lethargy; or like a sudden flash of lightning, exciting momentary awe and terror, but quickly passing, and leaving all in darkness as before. They may continue for a longer or a shorter period, and may recur at intervals through a long life. But they are ever treated in the same way, and produce no greater effect — they arouse the conscience, but do not conquer the will — they alarm the fears, but do not subdue the heart — they make sin dreadful, but they do not make it hateful to the soul. It loves sin, and hates its convictions; and therefore sin is cherished, while the convictions are suppressed. Oh! it is a fearful case when God comes so near to the heart, and the heart is thus wilfully closed against him! For such convictions cannot be resisted without incurring guilt, nor stifled without leaving behind them, like a fire that has been kindled and quenched, the black traces of their power, in their withering and hardening influence on the heart.

With another class, conviction works towards conversion; and under the influence of evangelical motives, it issues in true and lasting repentance. The soul, convinced of its guilt, and impressed with a sense of its danger, is prompted to ask, What must I do to be saved? How shall I flee from the wrath to come? Sensible of its vileness, and loathing itself on account of it, it begins to inquire, How may I be cleansed from the pollution of my nature, and the foulness of my sin? If, when the soul is thus convinced, and anxious, the glorious scheme of grace and redemption is unfolded to its view; if it is enabled to look to the cross, and to Christ as the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world. And if it is penetrated with a lively sense of the love of Christ to sinners, and of God’s mercy through him — then stern conviction will be melted into tender contrition, and the most harrowing remorse into kindly repentance. The heart which trembled, and was perhaps hardened under the ice-cold fetters of conviction, is subdued by the beams of the Sun of Righteousness — just one ray of heaven’s light piercing through the gloom, converts it into a scene of peace. In the greatest tumult of conviction, a single word of Gospel comfort may produce inward quiet, when it is spoken by Him who said to the raging sea, “Peace, be still, and immediately there was a great calm.” The convinced sinner, thus apprehending the love of Christ, and the glorious design of his Gospel, is thoroughly changed by means of it. His stubborn will is subdued, and he is made willing in the day of divine power. In a word, he undergoes a change of mind and heart, which is called evangelical repentance. And in its largest sense, this is the same as being born again. Then legal conviction becomes evangelical contrition. In this there is sorrow — but not the sorrow of the world, which works death — shame, but such that it humbles without depressing the soul; — and fear, but not the fear which has torment — not the fear that is associated with the Spirit of bondage. Rather, it is filial fear, having respect to the majesty of God, and even to his warnings and threatenings — yet it is not the servile fear of a condemned malefactor, but the ingenuous fear of a forgiven child.

AN ADDRESS TO CONVINCED SINNERS.

As there may be some who have already passed, or are now passing through the various stages of conviction, and as their present situation is one of a very critical nature, on the due improvement of which their eternal welfare depends, I would earnestly solicit their attention to a special statement of the DUTIES of convinced sinners.

1. Beware how you deal with your convictions, and remember that you are responsible to God for your treatment of them. Whether they have been produced by the unaided exercise of conscience, or by the natural influence of the Word of God, or by the direct agency of the Holy Spirit applying the truth to yourselves individually — there they are — in your bosom; and they will either prove a blessing or a curse. They cannot leave you as they found you; they will subdue or harden every soul in which they have found a place. You cannot rid yourself of them without doing violence to your conscience, and insult to the Spirit of grace. You may try to allay them; you may seek to forget the fears which haunt you, by hurrying into the world, and by mixing with thoughtless companions, and perhaps by having recourse to a soothing opiate, or the intemperate draught. You may even succeed in regaining a temporary security. But far from diminishing it, you are only adding to your guilt. And while you shun fear, you rush into greater danger. If there is one thing for which a man is responsible to God, it must be the manner in which he deals with the convictions of his own conscience. Even in the present world, although it is not a state of strict retribution, there is in the experience of every sinner, a process of judicial equity. It proceeds on the principle of aiding every attempt, however feeble, to improve the light he has, and of withdrawing that light from those by whom it is neglected or despised. The same convictions, improved by one man, and stifled by another, will issue in results as opposite as light and darkness, or heaven and hell!

2. Instead of stifling your convictions, seek to know more and more of the evil nature of sin, and of your own vileness in particular. Beware of dismissing them as idle, or imaginary, or exaggerated terrors. And rest assured that as yet you know comparatively nothing, either of the nature of sin, or of your own character as it appears in the sight of a holy God. That you may know more of it, fix your minds on a serious consideration of sin — place it in the light of God’s Word — look at it as it appears in the cross of Christ — consider it in connection with the curse of the law, the sufferings of life, the agonies of death, and the realities of a coming judgment. And that you may feel as well as know what it is, seek to be suitably affected by a sense of sin — - till the conviction is thoroughly inwrought into the very frame of your minds, so that you cannot justify or even excuse it.

However deep and painful your convictions may be, you may well believe that you are infinitely more sinful and vile in God’s sight than in your own. This is first, because of the natural darkness, depravity, and deceitfulness of your hearts, which prevent you from seeing yourselves as God sees you; and secondly, because of God’s essential, infinite, and unsullied purity. It is said of Him, that “the heavens are not clean in his sight; that he charges his angels with folly;” “that he is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, and that he cannot look upon sin.” And that this solemn thought may be impressed on your mind, dwell much on the contemplation of God’s character, contrasting it with your own. Endeavour to realise the thought of God as the omnipotent and omniscient Searcher of hearts, the pure, and holy, and just Governor and Judge — till you are ready to exclaim with Job, “I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees you: I therefore abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes;” or with Isaiah, “Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts.”

3. Having acquired a sight and sense of your own sinfulness, listen with submission to the sentence of God’s law. Apply that sentence to yourselves, and beware of any disposition that may spring up within you, either to quarrel with it as too severe, or to imagine that God cannot or will not enforce it. God’s sentence must be a just one, and it cannot be reversed; however, it may be questioned by man. It stands revealed in the Bible, and although conscience may not immediately respond to it when it is first announced, yet the serious and frequent consideration of it will gradually impress and affect the conscience, till in the end you will be constrained to acknowledge that sin deserves God’s wrath and curse. The sentence of the law, duly reflected on in connection with your present experience of the curse that follows on sin, and with your future prospect of a judgment to come, will strengthen the self-condemning power of conscience, and shut you up to the conviction that you are “without excuse,” and that every “mouth must be stopped, and all the world become guilty before God.” And then, like David, you will be ready to justify God, and to condemn yourselves, saying in the language of sincere confession, “I acknowledge my transgression; that you might be justified when you speak, and clear when you judge.”

We should resist every tendency to question either the equity of God in pronouncing, or the willingness of God to execute this sentence, by such reflections as these: (1.) That this sentence is plainly revealed in his Word. (2.) That being the sentence of God, it must be just and righteous; for “will not the Judge of all the earth do right?” (3.) That however it may be questioned, it cannot be reversed by man; it may be disputed or denied, but it cannot be disannulled or expunged from the statute-book of heaven. (4.) God is really the only competent Judge of what punishment is due on account of sin, and what penalties are needful for the ends of his universal government; and (5.) That as he unquestionably has the power, so he has shown that he has the will to carry that sentence into effect by the expulsion of the apostate angels — by the universal prevalence of death — and above all, by the sufferings of Christ on the cross.

4. Beware of having recourse to false grounds of confidence, or unscriptural means of relief. Under the pressure of conviction, the mind is prone to seek rest wherever it can find it, and too frequently it is found in some refuge of lies. Some false doctrine, or some superstitious practice, is often embraced, which serves to lull rather than to pacify the conscience — in place of that pure truth, and that Gospel holiness, which alone can restore it to spiritual life and health. It is like the diseased, and feverish, and sleepless patient who, instead of seeking to remove his distemper, and to recover his health by a wholesome diet, resorts to the soothing draught, or the exciting stimulant, which allays the symptoms while it aggravates the disease. Thus, false doctrine or partial and erroneous views of divine truth, may minister temporary relief to an awakened conscience — as when the sinner eagerly grasps at the doctrine of the ultimate salvation of all men — or of God’s mercy as exercised without respect to justice — or of the impossibility or great unlikelihood of everlasting punishment — or of the power of mere moral amendment to obliterate the stain of guilt, and restore him to the favour of God — or of the efficacy of some external ordinance, or of some ecclesiastical privilege to secure his safety. And so, some superstitious observance, grafted on one or another of these false doctrines, is made the opiate of conviction — as when the poor Papist resorts to confession, and trusts to the absolution of a priest; or when the uninstructed Protestant fancies that his salvation may be secured by a decent life, and regular attendance at church and sacrament. Thus many say to themselves, “Peace, peace, when there is no peace.” Others seek relief by rushing into the world — by an endless change of scene, and society, and employment, they contrive to forget convictions which they cannot endure. Let it be your inmost persuasion that there is no stable ground of confidence, and no safe means of relief, except those which can bear the light of truth, and stand the test of God’s infallible Word. And be persuaded that nothing ought to pacify a sinner’s conscience, except that alone which can propitiate and satisfy an offended God. Conscience is God’s vicegerent in the soul, and it can only be surely and permanently satisfied by that which God himself regards as a satisfaction for sin.

5. Beware of the temptations which are peculiar to your present state, and steadfastly resist them. Every state has its peculiar snares. When convictions are weak, we are tempted to indifference in regard to salvation; when consolations abound, we are too prone to fall into spiritual pride; and when consolations are withheld, and convictions are strong, we are apt to sink into despair. This is the temptation to which strong convictions tend. The mind is apt to take a false and exaggerated view of its own sins. For although we can never think too ill of sin, we may charge ourselves unjustly, and make a really false application of Scripture, by regarding every infirmity as a wilful sin, and every wilful sin as a token of utter reprobation.[27] It is also apt to question whether its sins are pardonable, and its salvation possible, thereby limiting the efficacy of God’s grace, and of the Saviour’s sacrifice, and excluding itself from the means of Gospel consolation. Indeed, like a diseased stomach, it turns the most wholesome food into poison, extracting nothing from the most precious promises, from the freest invitations, from the richest privileges of the Gospel, except a soul-withering sense of its own wretchedness in having no interest in them. Penetrated with the unwarranted idea of its own hopeless condition, it first believes in this fiction of its own fancy, and then raises out of it a thousand imaginary terrors, and dark phantoms of evil.

I know that in such cases, reasoning can do little, and reproof still less; and that none but God himself can bind up and heal this wound. But while we look to earnest and persevering prayer as the most essential means of ultimate relief, I may humbly represent what appears to me to be the duty of a convinced sinner in such a case. And I have no hesitation in saying that the convictions of an awakened conscience are good and useful in themselves, and ought to be cherished and yielded to, in so far as they tend to humble us. They should not be yielded to, but resisted when they go beyond this, their legitimate object, and threaten to plunge us into despair. It is not the conviction of your own sinfulness that you resist in such a case, but a misapplication of conviction — a false inference from it — a fatal error growing out of it, which has no warrant in the Word of God. Repentance, deep humility, and self-abasement are the lawful and proper effects of conviction, and these are warranted by Scripture. But hopelessness, despondency or despair, are not warranted by Scripture, and should therefore be resisted as an unscriptural error. The Gospel is glad tidings — tidings of great joy to everyone — even the chief of sinners; and you can have no warrant from the Gospel to cherish that other frame of mind. It is true that the Gospel speaks of the sin against the Holy Ghost; but it is spoken of in general terms, and so as to give no divine warrant to any sinner to believe that he has incurred it. And therefore, this conviction of your having been guilty of that sin, is a mere conclusion or inference of your own understanding. It is unsupported by express Scripture, unsanctioned by divine authority, and not capable, therefore, of being pled with justice in opposition to the uniform tenor of the Gospel, which — speaking to you as a sinner, even as the very chief of sinners — calls, and invites, and entreats you to believe and be saved. And therefore I say, cherish conviction of sin so long as it tends to humble you. But as soon as it verges on the border of despair, resist it. God’s truth is then converted by Satan into a strong temptation: resist the devil and he will flee from you.

It may not be in your own power to remove this gloomy apprehension,

“yet it is your duty to oppose it to the uttermost. When God clothes the heavens with darkness, and makes sackcloth their covering, and shuts up in the prison-house where no light can be perceived, it is natural to take a kind of pleasure in yielding to despondency, and in defending it by many arguments. But to resist this tendency requires self-denial, and is the path of duty, however difficult.”

“Therefore, when the cloud appears blackest and most impenetrable, and when conscience or imagination are mustering up their heaviest charges and forebodings, endeavour to believe that there is One behind and above the cloud, whose beams of grace will at length break through it, and shine in upon you with a sweeter lustre than ever.” [28]

6. Let the convinced sinner acquaint himself more fully with the complete remedy that is proposed to him in the Gospel, for all that is really evil in his present condition. He may have read the Bible before, and may have acquired a cold intellectual notion of its leading truths; but never was he so well prepared for entering into its spirit, and feeling the suitableness of its provisions, and the power of its consolations, as he is now. Every sentence will now appear to have a new meaning, every truth a freshness, every encouraging word a sweetness, unperceived before. When the heart is interested — when the conscience is seriously impressed, the mind will be awake, and active, and quick to discern what otherwise might escape his notice. The convinced sinner cannot read his Bible without feeling that it is in all respects suited to his condition, and that it proposes a complete remedy for all its evils. There are just two comprehensive objects which an awakened conscience demands. The first is the pardon of sin; and the second, the purification of the sinner. And the more thoroughly awakened any conscience may be, the more impossible it is to satisfy it on these points by any expedient of mere human origin; while it will all the more certainly respond to the method prescribed in the Gospel by God himself. For there he finds both the great objects of his anxiety inseparably linked together, and each is proposed in its greatest fulness, and on principles which satisfy the conscience, as well as relieve its fears.

Does he inquire after pardon? And does his conscience suggest that, as sin deserves punishment, and as God is a righteous Judge, pardon cannot be indiscriminately bestowed, nor granted without some sufficient ground or reason? The Gospel proposes a free pardon — so free that the chief of sinners may take it freely — but a pardon that is not granted without a sufficient ground or reason. For it is a pardon founded on atonement — a pardon not bestowed until Divine justice was satisfied — a pardon which exhibits God as the just God and the Saviour — a pardon which, as it depends on principles which satisfied the demands of God’s justice, may well be regarded as sufficient to meet the demands of a sinner’s conscience. The sacrifice of Christ — that one sacrifice — is the complete remedy for all guilt. Yet sin — still strong in the heart — the power of that loathsome thing which makes a sinner vile in his own eyes — this also must be taken away. For, free as the pardoned sinner may be of all the guilt of his past transgressions, every conscience feels instinctively, that sin still reigning must be a constant disturber of its peace. But here, too, the Gospel provides a remedy — it proposes the Holy Spirit as the Sanctifier, by whose agency the principle of a new spiritual life is implanted in the soul. And it is gradually strengthened and matured until, after a progressive sanctification, he is made “fit for the inheritance of the saints in light.” Look at the whole remedy in all its fulness, and every convinced sinner will see that it is not only suitable, but that it is adequate to all the exigencies of his case.

7. Let the convinced sinner seek a sure personal interest in that remedy, by closing with the free offer of the Gospel. Every sinner to whom the Gospel is preached, may be said to have a certain interest in it, as it is presented, exhibited, and offered to all, without exception. But a saving personal interest in it depends on its being embraced, accepted, received. The general interest which every sinner has in it, and of which no man can deprive him — for it is given by God himself — is a sufficient warrant for his seeking this more particular and saving interest. In other words, every sinner who is invited to believe, is warranted and encouraged to believe to the saving of his soul. And the one who can so far trust God as to take Him at his word, and to rest in the assurance of his faithfulness and sincerity in making this offer, need not fear that when he embraces it, it will be withdrawn, or left unfulfilled. But let him not rest in this general persuasion — let him act upon it. And by a deliberate exercise of mind, and in the most resolute manner, let him take Christ as his own Saviour, and give up his soul into Christ’s hand. And emboldened by the free invitation which warrants him to take “the waters of life freely,” let him put in his claim to take Christ home in his person, merit, power, and love, as his own. This explicit and distinct closing with Christ — by which the sinner takes him in all the fulness of his offices and benefits, and gives himself to Christ, soul, body, and spirit, to be pardoned, sanctified, and saved by him — is the decisive act by which a convinced sinner may secure his safety, and arrive at peace and joy in believing.

8. The convinced sinner should give utterance to his convictions in the language of confession, and to his desires in the language of earnest prayer. Confession relieves the mind of much that is painful in conviction while it is pent up and restrained in the sinner’s heart. And at the same time, it deepens the humility which ought to be produced by it, by bringing the sinner into immediate converse with a holy God. And these effects will more surely follow, in proportion as confession is specific and full: “He that confesses his sin, and forsakes it, shall find mercy.” But real conviction produces inward desire; and that desire, expressed before God, is prayer. Let the sinner pour it out before the Lord, not doubting at all that “His ear is not heavy that it cannot hear, nor his arm shortened that it cannot save.” Let him pray in the assurance that he is warranted and encouraged to do so, and that God will fulfil his own promise, by granting his request. Yes, though he is long kept at a distance, and may be tempted to retire under a feeling of disappointment, let him persevere, and wait, and seek. Let him knock loud and long at heaven’s gate — and take no denial; but wait until God himself opens the door, and a flood of heaven’s light bursts on his astonished eye. Let him pray as fervently as the greatness of his interest demands; and let him pray on until that interest is secured. For never should a sinner quit the exercise of prayer while the throne of grace is standing, and God, seated on the throne, is waiting to be gracious there.

When we address ourselves to sinners who are labouring under a conviction of sin, there are two classes of men, of very different characters, who may feel as if they had no interest in our message, and who may be in danger of applying it (though in different ways) to the injury of their own souls.

There are some of God’s people who, when they hear of the convincing work of the Spirit, and of the deep convictions which others have experienced, may be unable to discover in their present state of mind, anything that corresponds to what they think should be the experience of every true Christian — who are not conscious of that deep sorrow, and those alarming fears, which a sense of sin might be expected to inspire — and who may, therefore, be ready to question whether they have yet undergone the great change which is essential to salvation. They complain of their coldness, and apathy, and unconcern — of the hardness of their hearts, the insensibility of their consciences, and the lack or weakness of that deep heartfelt contrition which they ought to feel. Now, to them I would say, distress of mind is not the substance of true repentance, although it may be its frequent attendant — there may be true conviction, and genuine humility of heart, where there is no anguish or sensible remorse. Indeed, contrition is often most genuine, and humility most profound, when all that is painful and alarming in conviction has been removed by a view of the grace and mercy of a forgiving God, and an all-sufficient Saviour. All that is terrible in conviction of sin and wrath, may be (and often is) prevented or immediately dispelled by a clear view of the scheme of redemption. And it is enough that you are really humbled, however little you may be distressed. It is enough if you are emptied of all self-righteous dependence, and convinced that you are “wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” Now, your very complaints of the lack of due humiliation on account of sin, may be an evidence that you are one of those whom our Lord speaks of when he says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” It has been truly said that “hardness of heart, deeply felt and lamented, is real softness. A stony-ground hearer, and one seriously afraid of remaining such, are two different characters.” [29]

There is, however, another class of men who, when they hear of deep conviction of sin, are conscious of nothing in themselves which bears the least resemblance to it. They may therefore be ready to conclude that the exhortations which are addressed to those who have experienced it, are not applicable to them. They may even suppose that, because sin has given them little or no uneasiness, they need give no heed to the remedy which is proposed in the Gospel; and so they continue as they have been, indifferent to the whole subject. These men differ from the former, in that they cherish their impenitence, and even glory in it. But let them beware: the very indifference — the very absence of all concern about repentance — is the most alarming symptom in their spiritual condition. For just as in some cases of disease, the utter lack of pain is the very worst symptom, and the surest precursor of natural death, so this insensibility of the conscience — this utter recklessness in regard to sin — is the worst symptom, and the surest precursor of death eternal. If they are concerned about their impenitence — if the hardness of their hearts grieved them — if they were humbled because they saw so little, and felt so little, of the evil of sin — these would be hopeful symptoms. But utter unconcern — death-like indifference accompanied with no sense of its sinfulness, and no desire for its removal — this is the characteristic of a “hard and impenitent heart.” It is alike proud and presumptuous in its obstinate resistance to all the truths of the Bible, and the teachings of the Spirit.

CHAPTER 6. The Work Of The Spirit In Renewing The Heart.

We come now to consider that great change which is so frequently spoken of in Scripture under the various names of conversion, repentance, and regeneration; and which is described by the expressive figures of passing from darkness to light, and of rising from death to life.

And that we may clearly understand what it properly consists in, and perceive its relation to the truths which have already been illustrated, it is important to observe —

I. That this great change is usually preceded by a preparatory work of instruction and conviction, which differs in different cases in respect to its extent, duration, and result; but which, in some degree, is necessarily implied, or presupposed, in every case of real conversion in adulthood.

There is often a preparation of mind going before conversion, by which the mind is fitted for its great change — just as wood, by being dried, becomes ready for catching fire when the torch is applied to it. This preparatory work consists chiefly in the instruction of the understanding, and conviction of the conscience. And it is promoted gradually, and often for a long time before conversion, by the reading of the Word — by the lessons of a Gospel ministry — by Christian society and conversation. It is often more rapidly advanced by those dispensations of Providence which impress the mind with a sense of the unsatisfying and uncertain nature of all earthly good, and which bring before it the realities of death, and judgment, and eternity. By such means, the mind is often instructed, and the conscience awakened, long before that change is wrought upon it, which is described as real, saving conversion.

This preparatory work may be more or less extensive. Sometimes it amounts to little more than a few occasional thoughts of God and eternity, by which the mind of a sinner is haunted when he least expects or wishes to be troubled by them. But these do not have sufficient power over him to attract his serious attention to the things which concern his peace. Sometimes, again, the sinner is so situated that, by the daily reading of the Word, and by regular attendance at ordinances, he acquires, before his conversion, a dear and comprehensive acquaintance with all the leading doctrines of divine truth. So that, he may be apt to suppose that little remains to be added to his knowledge until, by the teaching of the Spirit, he sees that the light which was in him has been but darkness, and that he “knew nothing yet as he ought.” And so, conviction of sin may be occasional or constant, and more or less intense, while as yet he remains in an unconverted state.

This preparatory work may be more or less protracted. With some, it issues in immediate conversion, as in the case of the thief on the cross. With others, it tends gradually and slowly to the same result, as in the case of those who “stay long where children are born” (Hos 13.13) — while, with not a few, it stops short of conversion, and leaves them at the end of life, as doubting and undecided as it found them.

For this preparatory work of instruction and conviction may issue in very different results. Whether it is considered as the fruit of a man’s natural faculties exercised on the truths of God’s Word, or as the fruit of a common work of the Spirit on his mind, it is clear that, while it is good and useful in itself as having a tendency, a fitness as a means to conversion, it nevertheless falls frequently short of it, and terminates without effecting a saving change. It may be the work of the Spirit of God notwithstanding. The grace of the Holy Spirit has usually been considered and treated under distinct heads, “as preparing, preventing, working, co-working, and confirming.’’ [30] And difficult as it may be to assign the reason why the Spirit’s grace is more effectual in some than in others, there can be no difficulty in understanding the causes which render his grace ineffectual in the case of many who are convinced, without being converted. Such persons have been instructed in the knowledge of divine truth, and they have been visited with occasional, and sometimes with deep convictions of conscience; but they fall short of conversion — why?

— first, because, in the spirit of unbelief, they slight the testimony of God, and the warnings of their own consciences — resisting the light; or refusing to apply the truth to their own case;

— secondly, because, in the spirit of carnal security, they love a false peace, and refuse to be disturbed out of their pleasant dreams; and would willingly be left alone to enjoy their fatal slumber;

— thirdly, because, in the spirit of rebellion against God, they cling to that accursed thing which He denounces, their heart’s love being given to some sin, even while their conscience perhaps condemns it;

— fourthly, because in the spirit of the world, which is enmity against God, they allow other influences — even “the lust of the eye, or the lust of the flesh, or the pride of life” — to wear out and obliterate from their minds the impression of God’s Word and Spirit; and the cheery counsel of ungodly companions, or the taunts and sneers of mere formalists in religion, or the easy doctrines of false teachers who say, Peace, peace, when there is no peace; — they allow these to have greater power over them than the combined testimony of their own consciences, of God’s faithful ministers, and of his Holy Spirit of truth;

— and lastly, because “the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now works in the children of disobedience,” leads their will captive to his sway, even when it is urged by all the motives of the Gospel to repent and be saved.

Oh! it is a fearful case — the case of a man thus enlightened in his understanding — thus convinced in his conscience — thus far brought on in the way which leads to conversion, and yet deliberately stopping short — wilfully turning aside — resolutely resisting all the teaching of God’s Word and Spirit. But it is a case which will make it plain on the last day, that if he perishes, it is not because he had no knowledge, and no conviction, but because he has stifled both. To that man, may God himself say, “What more could I have done for my vine that I have not done for it? “Why, when I looked for it to bring forth grapes, did it bring forth wild grapes?” Even as now, the same God is saying to every such sinner, “As I live, says the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that he turn from his way and live: turn, turn; why will you die, O house of Israel?”

But while, from these and similar causes the preparatory work of instruction and conviction may come short of saving conversion, some such work is necessarily presupposed in that great change of heart. It is not that we hold any natural or moral qualification to be indispensable for the efficacy of the Spirit’s work; — no; “the wind blows where it wishes;” and the Spirit may come suddenly to a heart which, till then, was wholly unprepared to receive him. His gifts were bestowed on Saul without any moral qualification, when he prophesied; and on Amos without any natural qualification, when the Lord took him as he followed the flock, and said to him, “Go, prophesy.” And so too, in His converting grace, he called the thief on the cross suddenly; and he converted three thousand murderers of the Lord at once on the day of Pentecost. Such unexpected and sudden conversions, He is often pleased to effect for the purpose of impressing us with the reality and the power of his gracious operations on the hearts of men; and with the certainty of his continued agency in the Church of God. But in other cases, precious instruction and education are employed as a preparatory means; so that every faculty is filled, like pipes laid underground with the gaseous fluid — there is no light, but there is a real preparation for light.[31] And when the Spirit applies the torch, the fluid is converted into flame. And universally, without excepting the most sudden conversions, this change implies and presupposes some knowledge in the understanding, and some conviction in the conscience. They may be suddenly produced; and simultaneously there may be a change of heart. But in the order of nature, that change presupposes these things. For it is a change of will, which implies a motive. It consists in embracing Christ as a Saviour, and this implies a sense of danger. It is called repentance, and this implies a sense of sin. So that, even in the case of the most sudden conversion, the understanding must be enlightened to some extent, and the conscience convinced, before that decisive change is wrought in which conversion properly consists.

Take the remarkable case of the malefactor on the cross; and even here you will see a preparatory work. It was of short continuance, no doubt, but still real, and implying both instruction and conviction. Suppose that this sinner came to the cross with no more knowledge of the Saviour than the other who reviled him; still, on the cross there was presented to his mind as much truth as was necessary to convince and convert him. From the words of the blasphemers who stood around him, who said in mockery, but with truth, “He saved others;” — from the inscription on Christ’s cross, “This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews;” — and from the prayer of Christ, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” — from these sources, as much truth proceeded to the soul of this malefactor, as was necessary for his conversion. It enlightened his mind; it convinced his conscience; it had power when applied by the Spirit, to make him believe and pray, “Lord remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And so too in other cases of sudden conversion, such as that of Paul, of the Philippian jailer, and of the three thousand on the day of Pentecost. Although there was no moral qualification of any kind beforehand, the understanding was enlightened, and the conscience convinced, by such truth as was then presented; and this issued in thorough conversion to God.

II. Conversion is not a partial work on any one faculty, but a change on every faculty of the mind, whereby the sinner is renewed really (though not perfectly) in the whole man, after the image of God.

It takes effect on the understanding when the understanding is enlightened by the Spirit; on the conscience, when the conscience is convinced by the Spirit; on the will when the will is subdued by the Spirit; on the affections, when the affections are purified, and refined, and elevated by the Spirit; and on the life, when the life is regulated by the Spirit, and conformed to the rule of God’s law.

Just as in conversion all the faculties of the soul are renewed, and restored to their proper uses and ends, so none of them can be renewed without a renewal of every other. And hence, the change that is wrought in any one of them, is often used in Scripture to denote the whole of this great work. The terms which are employed to describe this change are relative, and each of them has a reference to the previous state of the soul in that respect in which it is changed. Thus, illumination has respect to the soul as darkened; regeneration to the soul as dead; repentance to the soul as convinced of its sinfulness; conversion to the soul as turned from the error of its ways; renovation to the soul as renewed after the image which it had lost. And these are so inseparably linked together, that any one of them is often used to describe the whole change which is wrought in the soul by the Spirit of God — as when the apostle describes it by saying, “God has shined into our hearts;” and again, “He has quickened you;” and again, “Repent and be converted;” and again, “Whoever believes shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life.” Such, it would seem, is the saving grace of the Spirit, that it takes effect alike on the understanding, the conscience, the will, the affections, and the practical habits — leaving no part of our nature in its original state, but renewing every part, and restoring it to healthful exercise.

And hence “all old things pass away, and all things become new;” — the understanding obtains new light, the conscience new power, the will a new bias, the affections a new object, the life a new rule and end; so that the whole man is renewed, and a new impress and image stamped upon it. But that image is yet imperfect, and far from resembling in all respects, the likeness of Him after whom it is formed. No faculty of our nature is left unchanged; but neither is any faculty changed at once into a state of perfection. The understanding, the conscience, the will, the affections, the habits of a true convert, are all brought under the influence of the Holy Ghost; but He does not restore them at once to full health and vigour. He renews, but does not perfect them at the time of conversion.

These views may serve to guard against two errors. The one consists in the supposition which is too apt to be entertained by nominal professors,[32] that a few notions infused into the understanding, a few convictions awakened in the conscience, a few emotions excited in the heart, amount to the whole of that change which is implied in conversion. The other is the apprehension incident to true Christians, that because they have reason to mourn over the imperfection of every grace that is the fruit of the Spirit, they cannot have been converted or renewed after the image of God.

These errors lie at the two opposite extremes — the one of carnal and unwarranted security, the other of Christian doubt and fear.

III. Conversion properly consists in a sinner being brought actually, intelligently, and cordially to close and comply with God’s revealed will on the subject of his salvation. [33]

Some conviction of sin being wrought in the conscience, and some knowledge of God’s truth being imparted to the understanding, the sinner is, at the time of his conversion, brought to the point. He comes to a final decision — a decision which implies at once a firm assent of the understanding in an act of faith, and a full consent of the will in an act of deliberate choice. He surrenders himself to the power of God’s truth. He submits to God’s revealed will in the matter of his salvation. He is convinced that he is a great sinner, and that Christ is a great Saviour — a Saviour appointed by God himself — qualified alike by the dignity of his divine nature, the tenderness of his human sympathies, and the efficacy of his meritorious work, “to save to the very uttermost all that come to God by him.” He is a Saviour exhibited and proposed to every sinner in the general doctrine of the Gospel, and declaring his own free and unutterable love in its universal calls and invitations. The sinner, taking that Gospel as his warrant, comes to Christ, closes with him, embraces him in all the fulness of his offices, and surrenders himself without reserve into the Saviour’s hands, to be washed, and justified, and sanctified according to the terms of the everlasting covenant. This is conversion; this will secure the salvation of the sinner, and nothing short of this can.

There must be a decisive closing with the Gospel call, a final determination — first on the part of the understanding; and secondly, on the part of the will. We must come to a decision; and believing it to be infallibly certain that Jesus is the Christ — the only, but all-sufficient Saviour — we must close with him as he is revealed to us in the Gospel, and choose him as “all our salvation and all our desire.” (2Sam 23.5) It is not enough that we are visited with occasional convictions of sin — so was Cain, and so was Herod, and so was Judas. Nor is it enough that we acquire some speculative knowledge of divine truth — so did Agrippa, who was almost persuaded to be a Christian; and so also did Simon Magus, who made a profession that was sufficient for his baptism, and yet remained “in the gall of bitterness, and the bond of iniquity.” Conversion implies much more — it implies an actual, deliberate, and cordial closing with Christ in his revealed character, and a surrender of our souls into his hands. It is a radical heart-change by which the sinner is brought to close in right earnest with the Saviour. He may have been troubled in his conscience before, and moved in his affections, and to a certain extent, instructed in the truths of God. But till now, he hesitated, delayed, and doubted; the bargain was not struck, the covenant was not subscribed, the decisive act was not done. But now he is brought to a point — the business, long in negotiation, is about to be finally settled; he sees the magnitude of impending ruin — the fearful hazard of an hour’s delay. And hearing that Christ, and Christ alone can save him, he believes, and he comes to Christ deliberately and solemnly, to commit his soul into his hands, and to embrace him as his own Saviour.

This decisive act of closing with Christ, and complying with God’s revealed will in the matter of our salvation, although it may at first sight appear a very simple and easy process, includes in it, I apprehend, everything that is essential to saving conversion, or that is declared in Scripture to accompany or flow from it. Let the sinner close with Christ in his scriptural character. In other words, let him have a correct apprehension of Christ as he is revealed in the Gospel, and cordially believe in him, and choose him as his own Saviour, in all the fulness of his offices, and from that time on, he is really a converted man. However defective his knowledge and his experience may be in many other respects, he has already experienced all that is essentially involved in that great change. And so, every other consequence which properly flows from conversion, will ensue.

This decisive act implies —

1. That he believes Jesus is the Christ; in other words, that he believes the same Jesus who was crucified on the hill of Calvary, is the Son of God, manifested in human nature, as the Saviour of sinners — as such, executing the will of God, acting by His authority, bearing his commission. Indeed, he is anointed with the Holy Ghost as a Prophet, to declare God’s infallible truth — as a Priest, to satisfy God’s inflexible justice — and as a King, to subject the world to God’s rule; a Christ once crucified, but now exalted — invested with almighty power, and able to save to the very uttermost all who come to God by him.

2. This decisive act of closing with Christ in his revealed character, implies that the man feels he is a sinner; and as such, he is condemned by God’s law, exposed to God’s threatenings, and is in imminent danger of eternal ruin — while he has no means and no power to save himself, but must be indebted to a Saviour.

3. It implies that he is willing, or rather, that he has been made willing, to receive, own, and submit to Christ as God’s Anointed One, and as the Redeemer of God’s people in respect to every one of his offices; — that he willingly submits his understanding to Christ’s teaching, receiving the truth from his lips, and on his authority, as the infallible truth of God; — that he willingly acquiesces in the method of being justified — not by his own righteousness, but by the righteousness of Christ; seeking to be pardoned only through the merit of Christ’s blood shed on the cross, and accepted only through the efficacy of Christ’s meritorious obedience; — and that he willingly subjects his heart and life to Christ’s royal authority, so that his heart may be renewed and sanctified by Christ’s Spirit, and his life may be governed and regulated by Christ’s law. In a word, he is willing to receive and embrace a whole Christ, and a whole salvation; and to surrender himself unreservedly, soul, body, and spirit, into Christ’s hands, to be saved and sanctified, governed and dealt with now and eternally, according to the terms of the everlasting covenant.

Here we have a real thorough conversion. It consists mainly and essentially in repentance and faith — two gifts of the Spirit which are often used together, or even separately, to denote the whole of this great change — repentance, indicating what the sinner turns from — faith, what he turns to. Conversion is the turning point at which he turns out of the broad way which leads to destruction, and into the straight, the narrow way which leads to life. He then flees from the wrath to come, and flees to Christ as his refuge; he forsakes the service of sin, and follows Christ as his Master; he shuns perdition, and seeks salvation in Christ as his Saviour. Now, repentance describes his conversion with reference chiefly to what he turns from, and faith describes his conversion with reference chiefly to what he turns to; and each implies the other — there being no true repentance where there is no faith, and no true faith where there is no repentance. Both are wrought in the soul at the time of its conversion, by the power of the Holy Ghost applying the truth as it is in Jesus. From this radical change of heart, there flows an outward change of life, reformation of life proceeding from a renewed mind; first, “the tree is made good, and the fruit becomes good also;” the fountain is purified, and the stream that flows from it is also pure.

The production of true faith is often spoken of in Scripture as amounting to the whole work of regeneration — “Whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ, is born of God.” And again, “To as many as received him, to them he gave power to become the sons of God, even to as many as believed in his name; who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” Here, everyone who really believes is said to be born of God; and as every true believer is a converted man, it follows that the production of saving faith is equivalent to the work of regeneration.

But then it must be a real scriptural faith — as required in the Gospel. It is not the faith which the Apostle James declares to be dead, but that living faith which is described in Scripture as a well-grounded belief resting on the sure testimony of God. It is a positive belief — not a mere negation or absence of disbelief, nor a doubtful and wavering opinion, but a thorough conviction of mind; an intelligent belief such that it is inconsistent with blind ignorance, and implies a perception of the meaning of God’s truth; a full and comprehensive belief, embracing all that is essential to be known in regard to the method of salvation. This belief implies scriptural apprehensions of God in his true character — of Christ in his person, as Immanuel, in the fulness of his offices as Mediator, his great design and his finished work — and of ourselves as guilty, depraved, and exposed to a sentence of righteous condemnation. This belief, thus founded on God’s testimony, and implying spiritual apprehensions of his truth, is a vital, active, and operative principle, bending the will to a compliance with God’s call — awakening suitable emotions of reverence, fear, contentment, delight, love, and joy — renewing, transforming, purifying the soul, and effecting a complete change on all our practical habits. The production of this real, living, and sanctifying faith is the great work of the Spirit in conversion — a work which implies or produces a universal change on all the faculties of our nature. So that, as soon as this faith is implanted in his soul, the sinner becomes a new man — the truth of God, received by faith, is renewing his understanding, his conscience, his will, his desires, his affections — “old things pass away, and all things become new.”

Every believer, then, in the Gospel sense of that term, is born again. In other words, no one is a believer who is not regenerated, nor is any adult regenerated who is not a believer. Regeneration properly consists in the production of saving faith. But then it must be such a faith as the Gospel requires and describes. And that faith, although it may have its seat in the understanding, implies a change in our whole moral nature, and especially a renewal of the will. The understanding is, in the order of nature, the leading and governing faculty of the soul; and it is by means of truth cordially believed, that the great change is accomplished. But the truth is either not duly understood, or not really believed, where it works no change on the heart and habits of the sinner. He may read, and speak, and speculate about it — he may even embrace some fragments of it, and hold them tenaciously as the shibboleth of his party; but the substantial truth of Christ’s Gospel cannot be really understood and believed by any man who remains unconverted. He is an unbeliever, if he is unregenerate. An unregenerated believer, or a regenerated unbeliever, are expressions which have no counterpart in the Word of God. And if this is so, then is it certain that the production of true Gospel faith is equivalent to being born again.

It is true that many an unregenerate man may suppose that he believes — he may never have questioned the general truth of God’s word — he may even have ranged himself on the side of the Gospel. And by a public profession, or in private conversation, he may often have defended and maintained it — indeed, he may have had many thoughts passing through his mind, many convictions awakened in his conscience, which show that he is not altogether ignorant or unimpressed. And sometimes, under a Gospel ministry, he may, like the stony-ground hearers, have heard the message with emotions of delight and joy; and like Herod, he may have gone forth and done many things in compliance with the preacher’s call. And in such a case, it may seem to be a hard saying to affirm, that after all his reading, and hearing, and doing, he is (or may be) an unbeliever still. Yet I apprehend that nothing can be plainer from the Word of God, than that these transient impressions may often be experienced by an unconverted man; and that the man who is not regenerated and transformed by his faith, has no true faith at all. He may not question the truth — but neither does he fully understand and firmly believe it. He may embrace a part of it — but he excludes the substance of Gospel truth from his thoughts. Instead of yielding his mind up wholly and unreservedly to its subduing and transforming power, he holds down or “suppresses the truth in unrighteousness.” And by a thousand shifts and expedients, the man who is unwilling to be brought wholly under its influence, contrives to shut it out — while at the same time, he may make a profession of a general faith. The mind which is unwilling to be thoroughly renewed, manifests its unwillingness, not by refusing to obey the truth after it has been firmly believed, but at an earlier stage — by shutting its eyes to whatever in that truth is offensive to its taste.

IV. One characteristic difference between the preparatory work of instruction and conviction which is often experienced by unconverted men, and the effectual work of saving conversion, consists in this — that in the latter case, all voluntary resistance to God’s gracious will is overcome, and the sinner is made willing to close with the Gospel call.

Every sinner’s heart offers resistance to God’s truth. There is a resistance arising from unbelief, which refuses to receive his testimony; there is a resistance arising from pride, which repels his charges and accusations; there is a resistance arising from the natural enmity of the carnal mind, which opposes itself to his authority; there is a resistance arising from the prevailing love of sin, which recoils from the purity and spirituality of his service. Hence, many a man who has experienced much of a common work of conviction, and who has acquired some clear knowledge of the scheme of divine truth, is nevertheless found to stop short, and stand still, or turn aside, when he seems to be in a promising way towards conversion. And this is just because, when it comes to the point, he cannot make up his mind to a full and cordial reception of the Gospel. Convinced as he is, and perhaps troubled with his convictions of sin and danger; and enlightened as he is in the knowledge of that way of salvation which the Gospel reveals, he would willingly grasp at some of those blessings which it holds out to him. Willingly, most willingly, he would secure the pardon of his sins, and exemption from the wrath to come, and some good hope of a happy, or at least a safe eternity.

But when he looks into the Gospel, and finds that if he would close with Christ, he must close with him out and out — that if he would obtain pardon, he must take a new heart along with it; — that if he would be saved from hell, he must consent to be made fit for heaven; — that he must receive the Holy Spirit into his heart, and live under the power of faith, and walk in the path of humility, and self-denial, and devotedness to God; — that he must deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Christ; — and that he must submit to be saved from his sins. Oh! then he finds that there is much in the Gospel which he most earnestly desires to secure, but much also in the name of the Gospel, and inseparable from it, which he is most anxious to shun. He hesitates. He would take a free pardon, but he will not take a full Gospel salvation — his heart recoils from it. And at this point — this critical, this decisive point, when he is choosing for eternity — choosing between life and death, between heaven and hell — at this decisive point, when the full salvation is freely offered, and placed at his acceptance, and his eternal welfare might be secured by his willingly taking it — here, when nothing but his own unwillingness stands in the way, he pauses — he stops — he will not yield — he falls short of conversion.

Such is the case of a man half-convinced, half-persuaded to be a Christian. And it affords a melancholy confirmation of the Scripture doctrine that it is the sinner’s unwillingness that constitutes the only bar to his conversion — the sure and equitable ground of his future condemnation. And if this is the great characteristic difference between such a man and a true convert, it follows that a real willingness to close with Christ, and to receive a full salvation, though simple, is a strong and sure evidence of conversion to God. It is this, indeed, which is everywhere set forth in Scripture as the turning point — the crisis — the decisive change. Every man that is really willing to be saved in the full Gospel sense — -to be saved out and out, without exception and without reserve — has really undergone a change such as no human power could accomplish. No man who is really willing in this sense to come to Christ, and to close with him, has ever been, or ever will be, sent empty away. It is the will on which all depends. If the will is ranged on the side of God and Christ, it was the Spirit that placed it there; if the will is changed, all is changed; if the will is won over to the Gospel, the Gospel is won over, with all its blessings and promises, to the sinner’s side.

V. This-decisive change admits no degrees, and is substantially the same in all cases, while it is circumstantially different. Conversion may be preceded by certain preparatory means which have a fitness and tendency towards it; and it may be followed by an after-growth. But in itself, it is a quickening of the soul, by which it passes from death to life — and a decisive change by which it is translated from the kingdom of darkness, and brought into the kingdom of God’s dear Son.

There is no one point in its history at which it can be said of any soul, that it is neither converted nor unconverted. Conversion admits no degrees. A man may be more or less wicked in his natural state, and he may be more or less holy in his regenerate state. But he cannot be more or less converted; he must either be converted or unconverted — regenerate or unregenerate — alive or dead. There is no medium. Every man who is not converted, is a mere natural, unregenerate man, however rational, moral, and amiable he may be in the common relations of life.

This decisive change, in its substance, is the same in all — while it admits endless diversity in the circumstances by which it is accompanied. The varieties that may occur in the experience of true converts, are almost infinite. Some are suddenly converted as their thoughts are arrested and fixed on divine truth; others are carried on gradually along a protracted course of preparatory instruction. Some are visited with deep convictions of sin, and a terrible alarm of conscience; others no sooner see their sins, than they are enabled to rejoice in the remedy. Some are excited and agitated, even to the point of disturbing their bodily functions; others meekly receive the ingrafted Word, and drink in the dew of heaven quietly, as the silent flower.

All these varieties may occur. And it is important to mark them, because we are thus guarded against the error of seeking in our own experience, all the circumstantials which we have heard or read about, accompanying the conversion of others. The experience of others is not, in these respects, a rule to us. The Spirit acts how he will, and exercises a sovereignty in this matter. It is enough if we have the substance of true conversion. Now, that substance is the same in all: it consists in true faith — a faith that subdues the will, and closes with Christ according to the terms of the covenant. In other words, it consists in a change of mind and heart, by which it turns from sin to God through Jesus Christ. Anyone who can find the evidence of this change in himself, need feel no alarm about the absence of mere circumstantial and non-essential accompaniments.

VI. This decisive change is wrought by the truths of God’s Word, applied and rendered effectual by the Holy Ghost The Spirit of God is the agent by whom this work is wrought It is ascribed to him everywhere in Scripture. He opens the eye; He enlightens the mind; He works in us both to will and to do for His good pleasure. The truths of God’s Word are the means by which the Spirit effects this change in the case of adults.

We are “born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the Word of God, which lives and abides forever.” “The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.” “I have begotten you by the Gospel.” These and similar expressions clearly show that the Word, or the truth contained in the Word, is the instrument by which the Spirit of God accomplishes the great change of mind and heart which is implied in saving conversion. Many questions have been raised upon this point, and agitated with great keenness — such as whether the Spirit’s influence is exerted mediately or immediately on the mind, by a direct physical impulse, or by intermediate moral means;[34] and whether, in the order of nature, the illumination of the mind is prior or subsequent to the production of a spiritual principle in the heart.[35] But for my present purpose, it is unnecessary to discuss these questions. It is acknowledged on all hands, that the truth contained in the Word is instrumentally useful as a means in the hand of the Spirit. And even if it were impossible to explain the mode of his operation, we will find no difficulty in admitting its reality notwithstanding, if we bear in mind that it is “a new creation” of which we speak — a supernatural change — one that cannot, in all respects be explained any more than the creation of the world itself. For “the wind blows where it wishes, and we cannot tell from where it comes, or where it goes; and so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

The truth is so applied by the Spirit as to be made effectual for conversion. It accomplishes the design for which it is fitted and intended; it convinces the understanding; it carries the will along with it. The call of the Gospel takes effect, and becomes effectual calling, when the sinner is thus enabled and disposed to close with it The work of the Spirit includes moral suasion; but it is also “a work of power.” (Eph 1.19) We are made a “willing people in the day of his power.” On this point a question has also been raised — whether the grace of the Spirit is irresistible or not? It is clear that unconverted men are charged with “resisting the Holy Ghost;” for “God strives with them, and they strive against God.” But that grace which they resist is rendered effectual in the case of all who believe, not by virtue of any power in themselves, but by God’s power, “who works in them both to will and to do for his good pleasure.” And to those who are inclined to deny the efficacy of the Spirit’s grace, I would only suggest the question, What do you pray for when you implore God to enlighten, to sanctify, and comfort you? Is it merely that he would give you the means of instruction, and sanctification, and comfort? Or is it not rather that he would make these means effectual in your experience, by dispelling your darkness and subduing your corruptions, and saving you by his mighty power? All your speculative doubts on this point will vanish, if you will only consider the import of your own prayers.[36]

VII. Regeneration implies a great deal more than mere moral amendment or external reformation of life. It is a change of heart. “The tree must be made good before the fruit can be good.” A new birth is essential to a new life. There is no real holiness, except what springs from a renewed heart. “That which is born of the flesh is flesh: that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.”

This decisive change is so important, that our eternal welfare depends upon it — our state and relation to God here, and our everlasting destiny hereafter. Converted, or unconverted — that is the great question. If converted — then pardoned, safe, sanctified, interested in all the privileges and in all the promises of the Gospel. If unconverted — then unforgiven, unsafe, unsanctified, destitute of all interest in any one privilege or promise of the Gospel.

If the question were asked, Are you converted? various answers might be returned to it, if every reader would only express what is passing in his own mind. — Some might answer at once, No; we have no hesitation, no difficulty in coming to a decision. The inmost feelings of our hearts, and the whole habits of our lives, testify with sufficient plainness, that we have not been converted. We see no need, and feel no desire for so great a change! — Some others might say Yes; we believe ourselves to be converted. But of these, there may be two very different classes: the one comprised of those who really are what they profess to be; and the other, who have only a name to live by, while really they are dead. — Many more might say, We are in doubt as to this matter; we cannot fully determine whether we have yet undergone so great a change; we fluctuate between assurance and doubt, between hope and fear. And of these, there may also be two distinct classes: the one really converted, although they don’t know it; the other really unconverted, although they fancy that they have some reason to think they may have undergone some slight change.

Now it does not belong to man to decide as to the condition of individuals; everyone must decide for himself. But the transcendent importance of the subject, as one on which the eternity of every soul depends, affords a strong reason why we should come to some decisive determination.

In regard to those who are in doubt as to their spiritual condition, I admit at once that a man may be really converted, and yet not be so fully aware of the change that has been wrought upon him, as to be able to use the strong language of the full assurance of hope. But they ought to be reminded that it is their duty to “give all diligence to make their calling and election sure,” and not to sink into indifference and security when, according to their own confession, everything that most nearly concerns them in time and in eternity is in doubt. Mere doubt as to the fact of a saving change having been already wrought, may not be a sufficient evidence of their being unconverted. But indifference, sloth, and security, existing along with such doubts, and cherished while the soul is yet in this awful uncertainty — these are evil symptoms, and should be seriously considered. Pray that you may be converted, and that your calling and election may be made sure.

But may a man who is in doubt as to his being as yet converted, or who has reason to think that as yet he is unregenerate — may such a man pray? I answer, unquestionably. Indeed, a really unregenerate man may be exhorted to pray for regenerating grace. Witness the apostle’s words to Simon Magus — words which proceed on a great general principle — namely, that whatever God requires in a way of duty, we should do, in dependence on His grace to help us. The unregenerate man has duties that are required of him; and it cannot be thought that his present condition, however depraved and helpless, releases him from the obligation. The danger of his present state should urge him to pray, and seek, and knock; while the gracious promise of the Holy Spirit should encourage him. That promise is indefinite,[37] and is exhibited and proposed in the general doctrines, and call, and invitations of the Gospel, so as to afford a sufficient warrant for faith to every sinner in drawing near to God.

CHAPTER 7. The Result Of The Spirit’s Work In Conversion.

The grand result of the Spirit’s work in conversion, is described by the apostle when he says, “Therefore, if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” (2Cor 5.17)

I. When a sinner is converted to God, he is said in Scripture to be united to Christ. He becomes a living member of that spiritual body of which Christ is the head; and it is from his union with Christ that he derives all those blessings which he enjoys now, or hopes to enjoy hereafter. In virtue of this union, he is identified with Christ, as it were, and Christ with him — insomuch that he is represented as having died with Christ when he died, and as having risen with Christ when he arose from the dead; his sins are reckoned to Christ’s account, and Christ’s righteousness is imputed to him. So that, as Christ suffered his punishment, he will share in Christ’s reward: he is a “joint heir with Christ,” and has an interest in every privilege or promise which God has given to His Son on behalf of his people. The legal or judicial effect of this union is his entire justification, the pardon of his sins, the acceptance of his person, his adoption into God’s family, and his final admission into heaven. And the apostle refers to this effect of his union with Christ, when he says

“Yes, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord; for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having my own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith: that I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable to his death; if by any means I might attain to the resurrection of the dead.”

But there is another effect of this union which is equally important. By being united to Christ as a member of his spiritual body, the believer comes to be animated by that Spirit which pervades it — the Spirit of Christ which is, as it were, the vital power of his body, and which actuates every member belonging to it — the Spirit with which the Head was anointed, and by reason of which he was called the Christ of God, being like the ointment which was poured on the head of Aaron, and went down to the skirts of his garment. Every member of his body shares in this anointing. And the spiritual effect of this vital union is that “from Christ the Head, the whole body fitly joined together, and compacted by that which every joint supplies, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, makes increase of the body to the edifying of itself in love.” Or as the same truth is elsewhere represented under another figure — every believer is a branch in Christ, the true vine; and from Christ derives that sap and nourishment which renders him fruitful.

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, no more can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches: he that abides in me, and I in him, the same brings forth much fruit; for without” (or out of) “me you can do nothing.”

Such is the union which is declared to subsist between Christ and his people, and in virtue of which, every converted man is said to be “in Christ.” If we inquire by what means this union is effected, or how it is that we may be grafted into the vine, we will find that it is — by faith. Faith is the bond which unites the sinner with the Saviour. No unbeliever is in Christ — no believer is out of Christ. Nominal and formal professors may indeed be said to be in Christ externally, or apparently, by reason of their connection with his visible body, the Church. And our Lord seems to refer to their case when he says, “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away” — referring to fruitless and faithless professors who are like withered branches that receive no vital sap or nourishment from the vine to which they seem to belong. But the reason is that they have no faith — his Word does not abide in them, nor does his Spirit animate them. That which constitutes the vital union is FAITH. The Jews, the natural branches, were broken off because of unbelief; and the apostle says, “You stand by faith. You were cut out of the olive tree, which is wild by nature, and were grafted contrary to nature into a good olive tree.” The Jews, the natural branches, were in this tree as members of God’s visible Church; but through unbelief, they were broken off. The Gentiles, who were branches of a wild olive, and had no connection at all with the true vine, were grafted in by faith; so that in both cases — faith is the bond of union.

II. Now, of every man who is thus united to Christ, it is said that he is a new creature — or that there is a new creation. And if we would understand the import of this statement, or what is meant by the new creation spoken of, we may derive much instruction from a comparison of two other passages (Gal 6.15 and 5.6). There the same expression occurs, and they throw much light on each other, and also on the text. In the first, the apostle says, “In Christ Jesus neither circumcision avails anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature;” and in the second he says, “In Jesus Christ, neither circumcision avails anything, nor uncircumcision; but faith which works by love.” And from a comparison of the two, we may infer that a “new creature” in the one, means the same thing as described by “faith which works by love” in the other; or that “faith working by love” is the new creation which is wrought in the soul of a sinner when he is converted to God, and united to Christ.

The production of true faith is often spoken of in Scripture as equivalent to the whole work of regeneration: “Whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ, is born of God;” and “whoever believes shall not come into condemnation; but has passed from death to life;” “whoever believes on the Son has everlasting life;” and “being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” But then it must be a vital faith, such as required in the Gospel — a living and active principle serving at once to connect us with Christ, and to constrain us to live no longer to ourselves, but to him who died for us, and rose again. In a word, it must be “the faith which works by love.” LOVE is the sum of God’s law, and the spring of all acceptable obedience. For our Lord himself said, “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart: this is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it, You shall love your neighbour as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” And the apostle says, “Love is the fulfilling of the law.”

Now, love is the spring which faith touches, and through which it brings into play every faculty of soul and body in the service of God. The Gospel, being a message of love from God, cannot be believed without awakening a responsive love in our own bosoms. We will, we must love him, because he first loved us; and loving him, we will love one another for his sake. And if it is true that, “Whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God,” then it is equally true that every child of God must love his Father in heaven; and that “everyone who loves him that begat, loves those also who are begotten of him.” The Gospel message is fitted to call this powerful principle into operation. And wherever it does so, we see the Gospel fulfilling the very end of the law — we see faith producing that love which is the bond of perfection, and through love, all the peaceable fruits of righteousness. And thus, and thus only, is the whole character changed, and changed so thoroughly as to justify the strong language of the apostle when he says, “Therefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”

You cannot fail to see the connection between the two clauses of the passage, when they are thus explained: we are united to Christ by faith, and the new creation consists in “faith which works by love.” So that it follows, “if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”

It is of considerable practical importance to view the subject in this light, not only because it affords a clear and definite explanation in a few comprehensive words, of all that is essentially implied in the new creation; but also because it may serve to guard us against two very opposite errors, one or other of which many hearers of the Gospel are apt to fall into. Some, when they read of the great change which must be wrought on a sinner before be can enter into the kingdom of God, and are visited with some remorseful reflections on the carelessness or delinquencies of their past life, are so far impressed with God’s truth, as to resolve to break off some of their former habits. They may actually begin a work of outward reformation — forsaking the tavern and the haunts of profligacy, and the company of the careless and profane; and repairing to church, and sacrament, and assuming the outward observances of a religious life. Far be it from us to discourage or despise these practical reforms — they are included in the duty which you owe to God and your own souls. And they will materially promote your present comfort, as well as bring you more frequently and more hopefully into contact with the means of grace. Persevere, then, in the course of outward amendment, and in the practical work of self-reform. But oh! remember, lest even your amendment become a snare to you — that a new creation is God’s work — that it consists not merely in amendment of life (although that will assuredly flow from it), but in a change of mind and heart; and that the only root on which the fruits of true righteousness will grow, is “faith that works by love.”

Mere civil virtue may spring from many roots — from law, from policy, from prudence, from education, from example. But Christian virtue is the fruit and product of Christian faith. The nature of the fruit depends on the nature of the tree: “first make the tree good,” says our Lord, “and the fruit will be good also;” let the heart be changed, and the life will be reformed. But if you rest in mere outward reformation, while you are destitute of the “faith that works by love,” you are only “cleansing the outside of the cup and platter,” and you will resemble whited sepulchres, which are outwardly beautiful, while they enclose a mass of putrid corruption. It is by faith that you must be justified; it is by the same faith, working by love, that you must be sanctified. And any external reformation that is grafted on another stock, although it may have the semblance of sanctification, has nothing in it of its substance, and will neither suffice for your safety now, nor for your welfare hereafter. This is the first great error against which you should be warned by the doctrine of the apostle, when he declares that in Christ Jesus, nothing that is merely external or ceremonial will avail you, but “a new creation;” and when he tells you that this new creation consists mainly in the production of “faith that works by love.”

But there is another error, at the opposite extreme from the former, which is equally dangerous, and which, it is to be feared, not a few are prone to embrace. Some, when they read of the privileges and promises which are given to faith — when they hear that “whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ, is born of God;” and that, “whoever believes shall not perish, but have everlasting life;” — immediately conclude that, because they have never questioned the truth of the Gospel, and have on the contrary, acquired a good measure of speculative knowledge, and ranged themselves on the side of those who profess the faith of Christ, they need not be uneasy at all. Their creed is sound; their orthodoxy is unquestionable — and therefore they flatter themselves that their souls are safe. Oh! would to God that a sound creed were always combined with a new heart, and that an orthodox profession were never separated from a holy and spiritual character. But God’s Word, as well as our own experience, testifies the reverse. And hence the necessity of urging the great principle that “faith without works is dead” — that speculative knowledge is nothing if it has no spiritual fruits — and that if any man is in Christ, “he is a new creature: old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”

When a man believes, so as to be united to Christ, his faith works by love, so as to change his whole character. And for this reason, he is said to be a new creature, and to have “put off the old man with his deeds; and to put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of him that created him.” That we may understand the nature and extent of that change which is wrought on a sinner at the time of his conversion to God, and union with Christ — I observe,

1. He is a new creature because he is brought into a NEW STATE; or in other words, because his relation to God is entirely changed. Formerly he was in a state of wrath; for the “wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men;” — now he is in a state of peace; for ‘‘being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ;” — formerly. he was in a state of enmity; for “the carnal mind is enmity against God;” — now he is in a state of reconciliation; for “those who were at one time alienated, and enemies in their minds by wicked works, yet now Christ has reconciled;” — formerly he was in a state of imminent danger, “without Christ, without God, and without hope in the world.” But now he is in a state of perfect safety; for “if God is for us, who can be against us?” “All things are yours; for you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.” Thus the state and condition of a sinner is thoroughly changed when he is united to Christ. He is brought, as it were, into a new world — everything assumes a new aspect — he has passed from death to life, and exchanged the bondage of Satan for the liberty of a child of God.

2. He is a new creature because, under the teaching of the Spirit, he has acquired NEW VIEWS — new views of himself, his nature, his character, his sins, his duties, his trials, his proper business, his everlasting prospects — new views of life, its vanity, its shortness, its uncertainty, its real nature and momentous importance, as the only season of preparation for eternity — new views of the world, of its gorgeous pageantry, and broken cisterns, its deceitful and ensnaring pleasures, its destructive lusts, its utter repugnance and opposition to God — new views of the truth, that same truth with which he may have long been familiar as it is presented in the letter of Scripture, or in the terms of an orthodox catechism or creed, but to which he now attaches a new meaning — his eye being opened to see, and his heart to feel its spirituality, its certainty, its awful magnitude and importance with relation to his own soul. God has shined into his heart to give him the light of this knowledge, and he feels as if a veil had been removed from before his eyes. So that, although he may still see only as “through a glass darkly,” and perhaps at first more confusedly, as the man did who “saw men as trees walking” — still, he is ready to exclaim, “one thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.”

He now has new views of God — his infinite nature, his perfect character, his wonderful works, his ways in Providence, his purpose and plan of grace; — these things, which were formerly dark and doubtful, or which had no power to arrest and fix his thoughts, or which flitted before his fancy as shadowy and insubstantial forms, have now acquired a reality, and a power, and a magnitude which render them the most frequent objects of his contemplation, and leave a sense of awe on his spirit — insomuch that whereas formerly “God was not in all his thoughts,” he “now sets the Lord continually before him.”

He has new views of sin — of sin in its relation to God, opposed to every perfection of his character, to every precept of his law, and every principle of his government, “the abominable thing which the Lord hates;” and of sin in its relation to his own soul, exposing it to the wrath and curse of God, polluting and defiling it, so that it becomes utterly vile; infecting it with loathsome spiritual disease, like an overspreading leprosy, disturbing (or rather destroying) its inward peace; perverting and depraving every one of its faculties, and binding them down by an intolerable tyranny, in a state of self-imposed bondage. Thus conceiving of sin, he sees its heinousness, its demerit, and the justice of that sentence which God has denounced against it. And instead of making light of it as he once did, he feels it to be a heavy burden; instead of rolling it as a sweet morsel under his tongue, he feels it to be a root of bitterness; and instead of excusing it, he condemns himself on account of it, saying, “the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just and good;” “but I am carnal, sold under sin.”

He has new views of salvation — of its absolute necessity — of its infinite value as “the one thing needful” — the pearl of great price for which he is willing to bear the loss of all things, and to count them but dung; “for what is a man profited if he should gain the whole world and lose his soul; or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?” — of its difficulty, or rather its impossibility, in so far as his own resources or efforts are concerned. For his new views of God, and of his government — of sin, and its demerit — teach him to also entertain new thoughts of the conditions on which salvation depends. And so he is prepared to acquiesce with admiration and gratitude, in that scheme of grace and redemption which formerly appeared foolishness to him, but which now, to his awakened conscience, commands itself as “the wisdom of God, and the power of God.” “The natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.” But when he is converted by the teaching of the Spirit, all his views are changed. Doctrines which he was at first disposed to ridicule or dispute, come to be regarded as first truths, or self-evident principles, which carry their own evidence along with them to an awakened conscience. And he is like a man awaking out of sleep, and exchanging the dreams of night for the realities of day — “old things have passed away; all things have become new.”

3. He is a new creature because he has been endued with NEW AFFECTIONS, or rather his affections have been directed to new and worthier objects. Formerly they were withdrawn from God, and as they must have some object, they were centered on some worldly thing — power, or pleasure, or wealth, or fame. And hence he was ungodly, having no supreme affection for God, and subject to worldly lusts — “the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life.” These lusts are not eradicated by conversion; they may long continue to be to the believer, what the Canaanites were to the people of Israel — ‘‘They shall be as thorns in your sides, and their gods shall be a snare to you; that through them I may prove Israel, whether they will keep the way of the Lord or not.” But their power is broken when, under the teaching of the Spirit, the mind is turned from lying vanities, to the living God — new, and holier, and better objects are embraced by the heart’s affections. Faith works by love — love to God as a reconciled and forgiving Father. Springing from a lively sense of his mercy in the scheme of redemption, this love is evermore nourished and strengthened by new instances and tokens of his goodness, and rises at length into a satisfying esteem, and profound adoration of his essential character, so that he is better loved in proportion to being better known. Every new discovery of his boundless perfections, every new manifestation of his wisdom, and faithfulness, and power, adds fuel to the flame of this holy affection: — love to Christ, as God and man, uniting in his own person the perfections of the divine with the sympathies of the human nature; and endeared by the recollection of what he did and suffered, the humiliation to which he submitted, the agony which he endured, the lovely graces which he exercised, the precious benefits which he purchased, and the freeness with which they are conferred; Christ is precious to the believer, and “the love of Christ constrains him;” — and love to God as his Father, and to Christ as his elder brother, is combined with, and tends to nourish an unconditional love towards his people as brethren, and towards all men as God’s offspring; so that he will be ready to “do good to all men as he has opportunity; but especially,” being more closely related to them by the most sacred bonds, “to those who are of the household of faith.”

4. As the objects of his affections are new, so also are his DESIRES and AIMS. Formerly, these were directed solely to the world. He knew of nothing better, and cared for nothing more, than its fleeting vanities. But now his desires are raised above the world — to God as his chief good; and they extend beyond the world — to heaven as his everlasting home. His supreme desire is to know and enjoy God — to maintain communion with him — to acquire larger views of his perfections, and a sweeter sense of his presence, — to become conformed to his will, and to be transformed into his image. “There are many who say, Who will show us any good? Lord, lift up the light of your countenance upon me. You have put gladness into my heart, more than in the time that their corn and wine increased.” “My soul follows hard after God; I will seek you early: my soul thirsts for you, my flesh longs for You in a dry and parched land, to see your power and Your glory as I have seen you in the sanctuary.” This being his chief end and chosen good, his desires will be set on everything that has a tendency, as a means, to lead towards it. And hence his deep concern as to his saving interest in Christ — his earnest prayers for pardoning mercy and sanctifying grace — his patient waiting upon God in the way of his own appointment — and his spiritual appetite when, “like a new born babe, he desires the sincere milk of the word, that he may grow thereby.” For spiritual life has its instincts as well as natural life does; and just as surely as a newborn child will crave the food which nourishes the body, so a soul that has been born again will desire and seek after its congenial aliment.[38] And seeing that here everything is imperfect, and that in its present state he cannot enjoy God as he would, he will look beyond the world for the full satisfaction of his desires. The world was once his all; but now another world, infinitely greater and more glorious, has been brought into view. And by its surpassing worth and loveliness, it has attracted his affections towards it. So that, in some measure, he feels that his citizenship is in heaven — that his home is there — and that it is alike his duty and his privilege to “set his affections on things above, and not on things which are on the earth; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.’’

5. He is a new creature because he has new ENJOYMENTS — enjoyments springing from the exercise of his gracious affections — from the enlarged and elevated views which have been imparted to his mind — the blessed privileges of which he has been made a partaker — the sweetness of that inward peace which surpasses all understanding — the comfortable communion which he holds with God — and the new aspect in which everything within and around, above and before him, appears to one who has been reconciled to his God. He may have enjoyed nature before, and may have looked with rapt admiration on its smiling landscapes, and swelling seas, and peaceful lakes. But a new element of joy mingles with his thoughts when, looking on all these in the light which religion sheds on them, he can say, “My Father made them all.” He may have delighted in the exercise of his faculties before, and may have felt a conscious elevation when engaged in some lofty study. But a new element of joy is infused into his spirit when, raising his thoughts from things terrestrial to things celestial and divine, he contemplates them in the light which God himself has shed upon them in his Word; and in the delightful assurance that “what he does not know now, he will know hereafter.” And so he enjoys what he never knew before — peace of conscience — even the very peace of God which surpasses all understanding — and the blessedness of him whose iniquity is forgiven, “whom God chooses and makes to approach him;” and finds that, “in the very keeping of His commandments, there is a great reward” — that “wisdom’s ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”

6. He is a new creature, because his HABITS are totally changed, in so far as they were previously inconsistent with the will of God. He leaves the broad way, and walks in the narrow path. Whatever in his previous course of life was at variance with God’s law is at once abandoned; whatever duty he had formerly neglected, whether religious, personal, or relative, he now honestly seeks to discharge. His own will is no longer his guide, but God’s will; his whole life is regulated by that unerring rule. “Lord, what would you have me do?” is the language of his heart. If he had previously been intemperate, or dishonest, or profane, or profligate, inattentive to the Word, and sacraments, and prayer — the change which has -been wrought on his spirit will appear in his altered habits. And if, as is sometimes the case, he had always been decent in his external deportment, and regular even in his religious observances, although the change will not be so visible to his fellow-men, he will be conscious of it in his own bosom — inasmuch as he will now be actuated by new motives, and will really feel that he is leading a new life; that what was once form has become power; and that “old things have passed away, and all things have become new.”

7. He is a new creature, because he now has new EXPECTATIONS and HOPES. He does not merely desire — he also hopes to obtain the unspeakable things which God has prepared for those who love him. Seeing that life and immortality have been brought to light in the Gospel, and that besides being certified as infallibly true, the way to reach them has been revealed, and a gracious invitation given to take that way himself, and a promise of all needful grace granted — he conceives the possibility of his being admitted to the glory which remains to be revealed. Although his hope may be feeble for a time, and often well-near extinguished by his remaining corruptions, still it is within him. And if it is not sufficiently lively to assure, it may be strong enough to sustain him in the posture of waiting patiently for God. This hope is an anchor to his soul, “both sure and stedfast, entering into that which is within the veil;” and it is altogether a new thing. The unconverted sinner may have no sense of danger, and may cherish a false security, but he has no such hope. This is one of the fruits of the Spirit, for — “the fruit of the Spirit is hope.”

8. He is a new creature because he has now a new EXPERIENCE, and especially a new conflict in his soul — even that same conflict to which the apostle refers in Romans 7, between the law in his members, and the law of his mind. There is a conflict of which an unconverted man may be conscious — I mean the conflict between sin and the conscience; but a new conflict begins when he is born again; and that is a conflict between sin and the will. The difference between the two consists entirely in the position of the will. In the former, the will is on the side of sin, and both are opposed to the conscience; in the other, the will is on the side of conscience, and both are opposed to sin. This may be said to be the characteristic difference between the converted and the unconverted. Both are subject to an inward conflict; but the one is willing to side with conscience, and the other is willing to side with sin. When the will is made to change its position — when it is brought away from its alliance with sin, and ranges itself on the same side with conscience and God — the great change is wrought. There may be, there will be a conflict still; for “there is a law in the members warring against the law of the mind,” and our whole life must be a warfare. This conflict may be severe, and arduous, and protracted — insomuch, that often the believer may be ready to exclaim, “Oh! wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me!” But the very existence of such a conflict, in which the prevailing bent and disposition of the will is on the side of God and holiness, is a proof that “we have been renewed in the Spirit of our minds,” and that God has begun that good work in us which he will carry on to perfection.

This experience of a spiritual conflict is really one of the new things which belong to the new creature. I have briefly adverted to it, with the view of obviating an injurious misapprehension which is too apt to be entertained by some. They consider the description which is given here of the new creature, in whom “old things have passed away, and all things have become new,” and — contrasting it with their own manifold imperfections and remaining corruptions — they are ready to question whether it can be applicable to them. Now, you will carefully observe that, while it is said that “all things become new,” it is not said that anything is yet made perfect. There is a great change — a change so great that it is fitly called “a new creation” — a change in the sinner’s state, views, and affections; in his desires, enjoyments, and habits; in his hopes and experience, — such as only God can effect; and such as makes the sinner a new man; and to live, as it were, in a new world, and to lead a new life. But not only is the new creature like a newborn child, weak and feeble, and destined to grow and gather strength by degrees — it is also surrounded and closely connected with a body of sin and death. Indeed, sin still dwells, although it no longer reigns, in the believer’s heart. It is there, not now as a tyrant, but as a traitor — not as a sovereign, but as a watchful spy. And he is called to watch against it, and to pray against it, and to fight against it, until the Lord releases him from his warfare, by calling him to his everlasting reward.

The most serious question that any man can put to himself is, Am I in Christ? To be in Christ, is to be safe in life and death, in time and in eternity; to be out of Christ is to stand exposed every hour to the most appalling danger; — to be in Christ, is to be in a hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; to be out of Christ, is to stand defenceless before that storm which will, before long, burst forth to consume his adversaries, and to sweep away every refuge of lies; — to be in Christ, is to be reconciled to God, pardoned and accepted; to be out of Christ, is to be at enmity with God, guilty and condemned; — to be in Christ, is to be adopted into God’s family, as children, and “if children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Jesus Christ;” to be out of Christ, is to be aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise; to be without Christ, and therefore without God, and without hope in the world; — to be in Christ, is to be a new creature, renewed, sanctified, and made fit for glory; to be out of Christ, is to be dead in trespasses and sins, polluted in our own blood; — to be in Christ, is to be prepared for death, and judgment, and eternity; to be out of Christ, is to have nothing but a certain fearful looking for judgment, and fiery indignation.

Would you come to a safe decision as to your present state, so as to be able to answer the question, Am I in Christ or not? Then permit me to suggest another question: Are you a new creature? “If any man is in Christ,” says the apostle, “he is a new creature;” he is converted and changed, so that “old things pass away, and all things become new.” It is by faith that we are united to Christ; and wherever that faith exists, it works — it works by love, and thereby it produces the peaceable fruits of righteousness. The particulars which have been illustrated may aid you in arriving at a safe and satisfactory answer to this inquiry if, in the exercise of serious self-examination, and with fervent prayer for the guidance of the Spirit, you apply them closely, each to his own soul. Are you conscious of having undergone any such change as has been described — any change in your views — any change in the object of your affections — any change in the prevailing bent of your desires — any change in the sources of your most cherished enjoyments — any change in your outward habits, or in your inward experience, such as corresponds with the account given in Scripture of the “new creation,” or “the second birth?”

In prosecuting this momentous inquiry, permit me to caution you against the danger of either requiring more, or being satisfied with less, than the Bible declares to be implied in this great change. Nothing short of a new birth — a radical heart-change — will suffice. For “unless a man is born again, and born of the Spirit, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” And this should be a solemn thought to the careless, and to mere nominal Christians — to those who are at ease in Zion, having only a name to live by, while they are dead. But on the other hand, in seeking to ascertain the state of your soul, you must not insist on finding more than what is, in your experience or character, essentially implied in conversion — for thus you may unwarrantably deprive yourselves of the comfort which God has provided for you in the Word.

CHAPTER 8. The Regeneration Of Infants.

It is a doctrine of the CONFESSION OF FAITH, that “elect infants, dying in infancy, are regenerated and saved by Christ through the Spirit, who works when, and where, and how he pleases;” and again, “That baptism is 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 to him a sign and seal of the Covenant of Grace, of his ingrafting into Christ, of regeneration, of remission of sins, and of his giving up to God through Jesus Christ, to walk in newness of life;” that “not only those who actually profess faith in, and obedience to Christ, but also the infants of one or both believing parents are to be baptized;” that “although it is a great sin to contemn or neglect this ordinance, yet grace and salvation are not so inseparably annexed to it, such that no person can be regenerated or saved without it, or that all who are baptized are undoubtedly regenerated;” and that “the efficacy of baptism is not tied to that moment of time in which it is administered; yet notwithstanding, by the right use of this ordinance, the grace promised is not only offered, but really exhibited and conferred by the Holy Ghost to those (whether of age or infants) whom that grace belongs to, according to the counsel of God’s own will, in his appointed time.”

In the ARTICLES OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, we read, “Baptism is not only a sign of profession and mark of difference, whereby Christian men are discerned from others who are not christened; but it is also a sign of regeneration or new birth, whereby, as by an instrument, those who receive baptism rightly are grafted into the Church; the promises of forgiveness of sin, and of our adoption to be the sons of God by the Holy Ghost, are visibly signed and sealed; faith is confirmed, and grace increased by virtue of prayer to God.” And “the baptism of young children is in any wise to be retained in the Church, as most agreeable with the institution of Christ.”

Such is the doctrine of the Churches of England and Scotland, and indeed of the Reformed Churches generally,[39] on the subject of regeneration in the case of infants. The importance of the subject is. apparent at once, when we reflect that one-half of all the children who are born into the world, die in early life, and before they have reached the full standing of members in the Christian Church. No reflecting mind can contemplate this act without being prompted to inquire whether any and what provision has been made for the spiritual life and eternal welfare of these children, and without being impressed with the vast interests which that question involves. And its importance is not diminished, but rather enhanced by the errors on this subject (both doctrinal and practical), which prevail to a lamentable extent, at the present day.

It is evident that if any provision has been made for the spiritual welfare of infants, and if that provision is included in the Covenant of Grace, they must be dealt with on substantially the same principles which are applicable to other sinners; and yet there is a peculiarity in this case which renders it worthy of distinct consideration. Let us review the points both of resemblance and of diversity between the two. They resemble each other, in that children as well as adults are fallen, guilty, and depraved. This is expressly declared by our Lord, when he affirms, “That which is born of the flesh is flesh;” by David, when he confesses, “I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin my mother conceived me;” by Paul also, when he says, “By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for all have sinned.’’ — “Death reigned even over those who had not sinned in a likeness of Adam’s transgression.” And it is significantly implied in the ordinances of circumcision and baptism. For why were children circumcised on the eighth day, in token of their spiritual separation from the corrupt mass, if they needed no separation? And why are children baptized in token of their spiritual cleansing, if they are not naturally defiled? If children resemble adults in respect to that natural corruption from which all actual sin proceeds, as from a polluted fountain, then they are also placed in such a relation to God, and so subjected to his curse, as to stand in need of salvation.

Another point of resemblance between the two cases, consists in the oneness of the salvation which is common to both. They must be saved substantially in the same way, there being only one method of salvation for all sinners. They must be saved according to the terms of the Covenant of Grace — through the redemption of Christ, and the regeneration of the Holy Ghost. It is equally true of young and old, that “there is no other name given under heaven by which they can be saved, but the name of Jesus;” and that “unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” This also is expressly declared in the doctrine of Scripture, and it is significantly intimated in the ordinances of the Church. For when a child is baptized, it is “baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” — it is baptized into [40] the name of each person in the Godhead. And this is not simply as they are distinct subsistences in the undivided Trinity, but as they are officially concerned in the recovery of lost souls. In other words, it is baptized into the name of “God in Christ,” the Father, the Saviour, the Sanctifier. And thus the identity of that salvation which is common to the infant and the adult members of his spiritual Church, is significantly represented to us.

But on the other hand, there is a marked peculiarity in the case of infants, and a difference between their case and that of adults, which cannot be overlooked. For in the case of infants, not only is there no actual sin, as contracted by everyone who has reached the age of personal responsibility, but there is at first no capacity of thought or understanding that could render them fit subjects for the operation of that truth which, in the case of adults, is the instrument by which the Spirit of God carries on his work in the heart. Hence some, supposing the Spirit’s Grace is inseparably connected with believing the truth, are led to question whether infants are capable of regeneration at all; while others are content to leave them to God’s general mercy, perhaps with an unavowed (and maybe an unconscious) feeling that it would be unjust of Him to cast them off. But this is no proper subject for indifference: it involves the question of their salvation. For if saved at all, they must be born again; and unless they are capable of the Spirit’s grace, they are incapable of the Gospel salvation. And seeing that they are not yet capable of forming a correct apprehension of the truth, nor of being enlightened and sanctified by its instrumentality, as adults are, it becomes us to inquire with reverence indeed, and deep humility — but still with that ardent and tender interest which natural affection itself might prompt — whether they are in any sense capable of the Spirit’s grace, and admissible into the kingdom of God?

Children, however young, even infants in their mother’s arms, are fit and capable subjects of divine grace. This may be evinced by various considerations. Several of these considerations afford a presumption in favour of the expectation that some provision would be made in the scheme of grace on their behalf; while others afford a positive proof that such a provision exists, and is available for their benefit

The PRESUMPTIVE PROOFS are such as these. When we examine the constitution of the human race, we find that it differs materially from that of the angelic race, of whom it is written that “they neither marry, nor are given in marriage” — each of these is created distinctly, and stands on his own personal and independent responsibility from first to last. Whereas in the case of men, the family institution has been adopted, in virtue of which every human being comes into the world closely connected with others — liable to be affected for good or evil by the influence of their opinions and habits — and is left during the years of infancy, as though in trust in their hands. He is not, in the first instance, independent; nor is he able to think or act for himself, but he grows up gradually into a state of personal responsibility. Now, the scheme of revealed truth adapts itself to this, which is the actual constitution of human nature. It reveals God not merely as the God of individuals, but as the “God of families” — “the God of ages and generations’ — and in all his dealings with men, as having respect to the hereditary constitution which he has given to the human race — “visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, to the third and fourth generation of those who hate Him, and showing mercy to thousands of those who love him and keep his commandments.” Distinct from this family institution, yet admirably adapted to it, is the federal system, by which men are placed under Adam as the head of the legal, and under Christ as the head of the evangelical dispensation — just as the scheme of revelation is in all other respects, adapted to the constitution and course of nature. So that, as from the legal they inherit the fruits of revolt, so from the evangelical they receive the fruits of redemption.

Now. as God has constituted two distinct heads — the first and the second Adam — and as, in fact, children are found to be included along with their parents in the one head, and in consequence, share in the ruinous effects of the fall — a strong presumption arises from this, that children may also be included along with their parents in the other head, and are so included as to share in the blessed effects of the redemption. As to their being incapable at their tender years, and while their minds are yet immature, of any participation in the divine nature which is imparted by the Spirit — surely it cannot be thought that they are less capable of this, than they were of being infected by the virus of original sin.

These are presumptions, I admit, and nothing more. But they may have their use in clearing away those unfounded and injurious prejudices with which too many come to the study of the question, and in preparing them for giving to it a dispassionate and impartial consideration. And if they are sufficient for this end, they serve the chief purpose for which they are adduced.

The POSITIVE PROOF on the subject will be found to afford ample evidence for affirming that in the actual scheme of grace, provision has been made for the case of infants, and that they are fit and capable subjects of the Gospel salvation. That proof consist chiefly in (1) express doctrinal statements on the subject; (2) recorded instances of sanctified infancy; (3) the analogy of the typical dispensation; and (4) the ordinance of baptism, as applicable to infants in the Christian Church.

(1) Of the express doctrinal statements on this subject, I will select only one, which being accompanied with a most significant action, performed by Christ himself on little children, appears to me to be sufficient of itself to determine, not the question of infant baptism, but the prior and more important question of their interest in the kingdom of God. We read (Luk 18.15), that “they brought to him also infants, that he would touch them,” or as it is in the parallel passage of another Gospel, “that he would put his hands on them and pray;” and when his disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them (the infants [41]), and said, “suffer little children to come to me, and do not forbid them, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” It is added (Mar 10.16), “And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them.” Now, remember that these words were uttered, and this act was done, not as a mere expression of personal tenderness, such as every benevolent mind must feel towards these helpless children, and just because they were helpless, these most interesting children. The words were uttered, and the act was done by him, in his official character as Redeemer, and in the exercise of his public ministry as the Prophet of the Church. And while the former words declare that of such — such in point of age as well as disposition — is the kingdom of God. That is, his own Church, whether on earth or in heaven, is in great measure composed of such. The latter— I mean his act when he put his hand on them and blessed them — implies that they are the objects of a Saviour’s love, and capable of receiving a Saviour’s blessing. Indeed, they are fit subjects of the Spirit’s grace, for the imposition or laying on of hands was the usual sign by which the communication of the Spirit was shadowed.

Can we doubt, then, that infants, however young, who are fallen in Adam, may be saved by Christ? How his blessing operated, we don’t know. But is there any parent whose mind is so sceptical, or his heart so cold, as to imagine that the Saviour’s laying on of hands, and pronouncing that blessing on these little children, could have no efficacy — or that it was an idle ceremony, a mere empty form?

(2) Of the recorded instances of infants who were the subjects of the Spirit’s grace, I might mention, first of all, “the Holy Child” — the infant Jesus himself, whose body was prepared, and his human soul filled with the Holy Ghost, so as to be wholly “without sin.” But as this is a peculiar and unparalleled instance, seeing that he didn’t descend from Adam by ordinary generation, but was conceived of a virgin by the power of the Holy Ghost, I won’t dwell on it here — although it is fraught with profound instruction to all.[42] But I will select the case of his illustrious forerunner, of whom it was predicted by the angel, that “he should be filled with the Holy Ghost even from his mother’s womb;” and the case of Jeremiah under the Old Testament, of whom it is written, “Before I formed you in the belly I knew you, and before you came out of the womb I sanctified you; and I ordained you a prophet to the nations.”

(3) The analogy of the typical dispensation affords another proof. The ordinance of circumcision which was given to Abraham, and continued under Moses and the prophets, was in itself considered as a sacrament of that dispensation of the scheme of grace. It was an evidence that the children of believers then had an interest in God’s covenant; for it was appointed to be observed on the eighth day, and to Abraham and his seed, it was a “seal of the righteousness which is of faith.” But when that dispensation is regarded in its typical aspect — as designed to prefigure or foreshadow the better things which were still in reserve for the Church under “the ministration of the Spirit” — the argument is so strong as to be altogether irresistible in favour of the interest of infants in the scheme of grace and redemption.

(4) And finally, the proof is completed by the ordinance of baptism in the Christian Church, if that ordinance is applicable to children — I say, if it is applicable to children, for there are some who deny that it ought to be administered to them. And to those, the argument that is derived from the rite of baptism, in favour of the interest of children in the provisions and promises of the Covenant of Grace, will appear to have no force or validity until it is first proved that the ordinance was intended for them. It is not my present purpose to enter on the proof of this.[43] We can forego the use of this proof when speaking to those who object on this ground, seeing that the interest of infants in the Covenant of Grace is established on other and independent considerations. And instead of arguing from the institution of baptism to the interest of children in the covenant, I would rather argue from the latter to the former. I seek to impress their minds, in the first instance, with the precious truth that infants have an interest in the covenant, and that they are fit and capable subjects of divine grace. From this it would naturally follow that they are capable also of receiving the sign and seal, and ought to receive it, if there is the slightest reason to believe that they have not been excluded by divine authority from all participation in that holy ordinance.

On these grounds, I think it must be evident that infant children are fit and capable subjects of divine grace, and that they are included in the covenant of redemption. It may be difficult for us to understand in what way the Spirit of God operates on their minds, or through what medium they obtain a participation in the blessings of salvation, which are said to be “by faith.” The regeneration of infants may be ascribed to a direct operation of the Spirit on their minds. And in this respect, it may be said to resemble what is supposed by some to be in every case the primary influence of the Spirit, under which the soul is passive; and by which, without the intervention of any instrumentality, He effects a permanent change, “predisposing it to receive, and love, and obey the truth.” [44] By this direct operation, he may implant that principle of grace which is the germ of the new creature — that incorruptible seed which may lie long under the furrow, but will sooner or later spring up, and produce the peaceable fruits of righteousness. Our older divines usually distinguished between the principle or habit of grace, and the exercise of grace,[45] and to maintain that the principle might exist in children who were as yet incapable of the exercise, and that grace in such children was real and saving.[46] It may be generally connected, too, with the faith of the parent, in whom, during the period of nonage,[47] the infant is federally included. [48] But it is sufficient to say, in the language of the Westminster Confession, that “they are regenerated and saved by Christ through the Spirit, who works when, and where, and how he pleases” — for “the wind blows where it wishes, and you cannot tell where it comes from, nor where it goes: so is everyone that is born of the Spirit.” And to anyone who objects to the regeneration of infants, on the ground of its mysteriousness, may we not say that the natural birth of a child is full of mystery: “I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are your works, and that my soul knows right well. My substance was not hidden from you when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, yet being imperfect; and in your book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them;” — and in the preacher’s words — “As you do not know what is the way of the Spirit, nor how the bones grow in the womb of her who is with child, even so you do not know the works of God who makes all.”

But there is another explanation of the subject which has obtained extensive currency — I refer to the doctrine of BAPTISMAL REGENERATION. If baptism is designed, as we have no doubt it is, for the benefit of infant children, it has appeared to many that this precious ordinance affords the readiest explanation of the means by which the Spirit of grace executes his gracious work — by imparting to them the germ of a new spiritual life, and engrafting them into the Church of Christ. On no subject is it more necessary to speak with caution, and to think with accuracy, especially in the present day, when the most opposite errors are current respecting it. Some represent baptism as a mere ceremony, a naked sign, or an empty form; while others strenuously contend that in every case in which it is administered, it necessarily implies regeneration, and no other regeneration is to be looked for. The language of the Westminster Confession is equally opposed to each of these pernicious errors. And while it unfolds the spiritual import of baptism in all its fulness, by the use of Scriptural terms — which may, at first sight, almost seem to imply all that the advocates for baptismal regeneration contend for — it singles out with the strictest discrimination, and condemns with the utmost explicitness, the groundless opinions which have been mixed up with that doctrine, so as to confirm the truth and correct the error.

Let us briefly unfold the doctrine of the Confession on this subject.

1. It proceeds on the supposition that children are fit and capable subjects of divine grace, and that they have an interest in the covenant prior to their baptism. They do not acquire an interest in the covenant by being baptized; they are baptized because they have an interest in the covenant. This distinction is of great practical value in many points of view. It utterly subverts the doctrine that none are regenerated who have not been baptized; and thus it serves to comfort the heart of many a bereaved parent whose child may have died before that sacred rite could be administered. And it enables us to say with the utmost freedom, that while we contend for infant baptism, we are under no necessity of unchristianising the children of our Baptist brethren who, from conscientious conviction, refrain from the use of that ordinance. It will also be found to throw considerable light on the proper nature and use of baptism itself.

Now, that an interest in the Covenant of Grace is presupposed in baptism, must be evident to everyone who inquires into the ground of a parent’s warrant to apply for that ordinance on behalf of his unbaptized children. Abraham first had an interest in the covenant, and then circumcision was added as a sign and seal of his interest in it. For it was “the seal of the righteousness of faith which he had, being yet uncircumcised.” And so, in like manner, the children of believing parents have an interest in the covenant, and they receive baptism as the sign and seal of that interest which they had, being yet unbaptized.[49] Their prior interest in the covenant lies in the terms of the promise — “the promise which is to us and to our children,” — “I will be a God to you, and to your seed after you.” And it depends on the relation in which they stand to believing parents. For if either father or mother is a believer, the children are recognised as having a title to baptism. And that, too, is by virtue of their having an interest in the covenant, according to the expressive words of the apostle (1Cor 7.14): “For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband; otherwise your children would be unclean; but now they are holy.” For “if the root is holy, so are the branches” (Rom 11.16)

2. The children of believing parents, having a prior interest in the covenant, receive baptism as a sign and seal of their engrafting into Christ — of their regeneration — of their remission of sins — and of their engagement to be the Lord’s. It will be evident that all this is included in that sacred ordinance, if we simply read over those passages of Scripture which have an express bearing on the doctrine of baptism.

“Don’t you know that as many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ were baptized into his death? Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that just as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” (Rom 6.3) “In the days of Noah, eight souls were saved by water; the same figure, even baptism, which now saves us also (not the putting away of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience toward God).” (1Pet 3.20-21) “By one Spirit we are all baptized into one body, whether we are Jews or Gentiles, whether we are bond or free; and have all been made to drink into one Spirit.” (1Cor 12.13) “In whom also you are circumcised with the circumcision made without hands, in putting off the body of the sins of the flesh by the circumcision of Christ: buried with him in baptism, in which you are also risen with him through the faith of the operation of God, who has raised him from the dead.” (Col 2.11, 12) “Then Peter said to them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost For the promise is to you, and to your children, and to all who are far off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.” (Act 2.38, 39)

These passages are sufficient to show that there is a profound significance in baptism; and that it is neither a naked sign, nor an empty form, but a true sacrament, and a real channel of grace. And in interpreting this symbolical institution, we are free to present it in all the fulness of its meaning to the faith of the church, and to show what efficacy is in it when it is made effectual. But you will observe that the apostles, when they used these expressions, were speaking of baptized men — who had been admitted into the Church on the profession of their faith in Christ — and that they thus spoke of the efficacy of their baptism on the supposition that their profession had been sincere, and that their faith was real. In such a case, there can be no doubt that baptism was both a sign and a seal of saving grace — and more than that, if such persons had died after their conversion, and before their baptism, they would have entered into glory, like the poor unbaptized malefactor on the cross. But having been spared to receive that external sign and seal of the covenant, the apostle refers to it as the token and pledge of their salvation. And so, if he had spoken of the children of these same men — but still on the supposition that the parents were true believers — he would have used the same language in regard to them, seeing that the children are included with, or rather in, their parents, in the provisions and promises of the covenant, and they had an interest in it, being yet unbaptized.

Viewed in this light, the ordinance of baptism is fraught with the richest instruction and encouragement. It embodies all the fundamental principles of the Gospel, and exhibits every truth that is necessary to salvation. In baptism, the name of each person in the Trinity is pronounced over us, not merely to mark the distinction of these Persons, but to intimate their harmonious co-operation in the scheme of grace, and the official relation in which they stand to us in the covenant of redemption. We are baptized into the name of each — into the name of the Father, as our Father — into the name of the Son, as our Saviour — into the name of the Holy Ghost, as our Sanctifier. We are washed, and thereby declared to be naturally unclean; we are washed with water, as a sign of the blood of Christ, which cleanses away the guilt of sin, and also as a sign of “the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.” And thereby we are taught at once the possibility of God’s entering into covenant with an unclean thing, and the means by which its uncleanness may be taken away. When a child is thus baptized on the strength of a parent’s faith, we see the federal principle which pervades the scheme of grace as well as the Covenant of Works — and the parent is impressively reminded of his responsibility, as being answerable to God for his child, at least during its infancy or nonage.[50] Therefore, whether we consider baptism as a sign of grace — or as a seal of the covenant — or as a visible witness for the truth — or as an intelligible symbol of spiritual blessings — it is fraught with profound instruction. And it is no less fraught with encouragement to faith, since it is a true sign, and a real seal, and ought to be regarded by every parent as a pledge of his child’s interest in the Covenant of Grace, and as a motive and stimulus to hope, and pray, and labour, for its everlasting salvation.

In what respects does this view of the nature and efficacy of baptism differ from the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, as it is taught so generally in modern times? It may seem, at first sight, to differ from it chiefly in two respects. The latter doctrine is understood to mean that everyone is regenerated who is regularly baptized, and that no one is regenerated who is not baptized. The Westminster Confession, while it unfolds the doctrine of baptism in all its fulness, carefully guards against these inferences from it. And it declares that “although it is a great sin to contemn or neglect this ordinance, yet grace and salvation are not so inseparably annexed to it, that no person can be regenerated or saved without it, or that all who are baptized are undoubtedly regenerated.” But I apprehend that there is a far more important difference between the two systems of doctrine. The one represents regeneration as an inward spiritual change, wrought in the mind and heart by the power of the Spirit of God; while the other speaks of it as a mere external or relative change, which has no necessary and no uniform connection with any degree of spiritual renovation. [51]

The latter system speaks of every baptized person as regenerated, while it admits that many of them may be, and are unrenewed. If the question related only to the right use of a term, or to a distinction between one term and another, it might be of little consequence in most cases — though not in this case, where the sense attached to regeneration would go far to nullify the import of many precious texts of Scripture.[52] But the evil is greatly increased when, having attached this meaning to the term, it is contended that no other regeneration is to be sought or hoped for;[53] and that all alike are regenerated, whether elect or non-elect, and whether ultimately they are saved or lost. Considered in this light, our divines have generally opposed the doctrine of baptismal regeneration. Owen says,

“Regeneration does not consist in a participation of the ordinance of baptism, with a profession of the doctrine of repentance. This is all that some will allow to it, to the utter rejection and overthrow of the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. For the dispute in this matter is not whether the ordinances of the Gospel, such as baptism, really communicate internal grace to those who are duly (as to the outward manner of their administration) made partakers of them — whether ex opere operato, as the Papists say; or as the federal means of the conveyance and communication of that grace which they betoken, and are the pledges of — but whether the outward reception of the ordinance, joined with a profession of repentance in those who are adult, isn’t the whole of what is called regeneration. The vanity of this presumptuous folly — destructive of all the grace of the gospel, is invented to countenance men in their sins, and to hide from them the necessity of being born again, and therein of living to God — will be laid open in our declaration of the work itself.” [54]

Irving, whose ideas of the spiritual import of baptism were sufficiently high, says,

“The error of baptismal regeneration, does not consist in holding that the true children of God are regenerated at their baptism, and should date their admission into the household of faith from there — which, with all my orthodox fathers in the Church, I hold to be the only true doctrine — but in holding that every person who is baptized, becomes virtually regenerate by it, and possessed with the Holy Spirit; or to speak the language of theologians, that the inward grace is so connected with, or bound to, the outward ordinance, that whoever receives the one necessarily becomes partaker of the other. This is an error of the most hideous kind — bringing in justification by works, or rather by ceremonies — destroying the election of the Father, the salvation of the Son, and the sanctification of the Holy Ghost — and exalting the priest and the ceremony into the place of the Trinity.” [55]

And the judicious Scott sums up the received doctrine in these five propositions:

“1. Baptism is truly the sacramental sign and seal of regeneration (as circumcision was under the Old Testament), and not regeneration itself, nor inseparably connected with it 2. Adults, sincerely professing repentance and faith, are already regenerate, and in baptism they receive the sign and seal of the righteousness of faith which they had while yet being unbaptized. 3. The event, as to each baptized infant, must determine whether it was, or was not, regenerated in baptism. 4. Baptism isn’t universally and indispensably necessary to salvation; but regeneration is. 5. Ungodly and wicked persons who have been baptized, need regeneration — even as all wicked Israelites needed the circumcision of the heart — and the Jews, in our Lord’s days, needed regeneration.” [56]

But while we guard against extreme opinions on the one hand, it is equally necessary to guard against extreme opinions on the other. And there is reason to fear that if, by some, the efficacy of baptism is unduly magnified, it is by many more unduly depreciated, or altogether disbelieved. We have seen that children are fit and capable subjects of the Spirit’s grace, and that the ordinance of baptism is a sign and seal of “engrafting into Christ.” In the case of an adult, where there is no faith, it is devoid of efficacy; and in the case of a child, where there is no faith on the part of the parent through whom alone the child has a claim to this ordinance, it may be equally ineffectual. But this does not hinder that, in either instance, it may be a real channel, as well as a visible symbol of grace, where faith is exercised in the covenant promise. And I cannot help thinking that the administration of baptism to an infant child is fraught with rich encouragement to the parent, and with profound instruction to the child himself when he arrives at a riper age. For in baptism there is, as it were, a visible application made to that child individually, of the sign and seal of all the grace which the covenant contains, It is such an application that it gives a special and personal direction to all the invitations, and calls, and promises of the Gospel. It is alike fitted to nourish the faith and hope of the parent, and to call forth, at a later period, the grateful acknowledgments of his offspring, or to impress them with a very solemn sense of the responsibility under which they lie.

Although I cannot agree with those who seem to argue that there would be no ground for Christian education unless regeneration were included in baptism,[57] yet it seems very clear that education may be stimulated, and conducted too, on a better principle, by reason of the truths which baptism unquestionably implies. The parent — knowing that, on the ground of his faith, his children are declared to be “holy,” and as such, admitted to the privilege of baptism — should feel that he is thereby encouraged to regard them as fit and capable subjects of the Spirit’s grace, and as having such an interest in all the privileges and promises of that covenant, as to afford ample warrant for the exercise of faith, and hope, and prayer. And the children, as they grow up, should be frequently reminded that they were dedicated to God — that they were baptized into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost — and that they received baptism as a privilege for which they must give in an account. And when at any time in later life, they have any doubt as to their interest in the covenant, they may look back to the personal application of the seal of the covenant to themselves individually, while they were as yet unconscious infants, and draw from it a precious assurance of the perfect freeness of the Gospel. To believing parents, again, who have lost their children in infancy, the truths which have been illustrated are fitted to impart a consolation such as the world can neither give nor take away.[58]

We have purposely reserved the case of infants for distinct consideration. To some it may appear that it would have been a more natural course to consider the effect of baptism in the first instance, and thereafter to develop the course of the Spirit’s operation, when children grow up to a capacity for knowing and believing the truth. But because the work of the Spirit is spoken of in Scripture chiefly with reference to adult persons, and because only in their case can we trace it in its visible manifestations and actual fruits, we have drawn our illustrations from their experience. And it deserves to be remarked that even those who hold the highest views of baptismal regeneration, should not, on that account, object to a detailed illustration of His subsequent operations on the mind and heart. For they admit that whatever grace may be imparted at baptism, there must be an internal and spiritual change of mind and heart — a change wrought by the agency of the Spirit, and the instrumentality of the truth in riper years, before any man can enter the kingdom of God.

PART II. Illustrative Cases.

CHAPTER 1. The Philippian Jailer.

Act 16.19-34

The nature of a sinner’s CONVERSION to God is illustrated in Scripture in various ways. Sometimes in the way of doctrinal statement, as when it is represented in general terms as a change of mind and heart, wrought by the Spirit of God applying the truths of his Word, whereby the sinner is led to turn from sin to God. Sometimes it is by the use of figurative or metaphorical expressions, descriptive of the various aspects in which it may be viewed — as when it is termed a resurrection, a new birth, an enlightening, a transformation, a renewing, a cleansing, a cure, an awakening of the soul. Sometimes it is by the help of parables, or stories derived from ordinary life, and employed to illustrate spiritual truth — as when the apostasy, and ruin, and wretchedness of the natural man, and the commencement, progress, and consummation of his conversion are represented in the history of the Prodigal Son. And lastly, by the account of many instances of genuine conversion which the Spirit of God has recorded in the Word, and which afford a practical illustration of the truth, admirably fitted at once to awaken our interest in it, to impart a clear idea of its nature, and to impress on our minds a sense of its reality, as matter of personal experience.

I propose to consider some of these scriptural cases of conversion — such as that of the Philippian Jailer, the Ethiopian Treasurer, Cornelius the Roman Centurion, Saul the Persecutor, Lydia of Thyatira, the Malefactor on the Cross, and the three thousand on the day of Pentecost — viewing them as so many illustrative specimens of that great change which must be wrought on ourselves individually, if we would enter into the kingdom of God. And I rather prefer those cases of conversion which are found in Scripture, before all others that have been reported in the diaries of private Christians, or the more recent history of the Church.[59] This is because, being recorded by the Spirit of God, they are of standard authority. They exhibit the truth without any admixture of error or enthusiasm — but are given in connection with the personal history and actual experience of individuals of various views, dispositions, and habits. Thus they enable us at once to discover by a simple comparison, what was common to all, and what is essential in every case of conversion, and to separate from each the mere circumstantial accompaniments. And in reviewing these cases, I trust we will be impressed with a solemn sense of the greatness of conversion, when we reflect that God himself has not deemed it unworthy of his own infinite mind to mark and to record, in his Word, the commencement, progress, and completion of this change in the bosoms of individual men and women. The mere fact that such cases are recorded is a sufficient proof at once that God regards the conversion of a soul with profound interest — and that, as “there is joy in heaven among the angels of God when one sinner repents,” so the Holy Spirit is near him, watching his progress, aiding his efforts, and rejoicing in his success

The first case which I select is that of the Philippian Jailer, which affords an interesting and instructive example of real conversion to God. And in illustrating the words in which it is recorded, I will — 1st, Consider what is said about the state of his mind before his conversion; 2d, The circumstances which accompanied, and the means which effected this great change; and 3d, The true nature of it, or what it properly consisted in, and the practical results which followed it.

1. In respect to the state of his mind before the time of his conversion, you will observe, on a careful review of the narrative, that there are two distinct descriptions of it; or rather, he was successively in two different states of mind — first as a careless sinner, and then as a convinced sinner, before he became a converted man.

It is evident that down to the time when the earthquake occurred, he had been a careless, unregenerate, worldly man. This appears, not so much from his having imprisoned the apostles, and made their feet fast in the stocks. For that might be thought to be his duty in the subordinate situation which he filled; and the guilt of persecution properly rested on the people who accused, and the magistrates who condemned them. It is said of them (ver. 19), that when the masters of the damsel who had been possessed with a spirit of divination, and who had been miraculously cured —

When they “saw that the hope of their gains was gone, they caught Paul and Silas, and drew them into the marketplace to the rulers, and brought them to the magistrates, saying, These men being Jews, exceedingly trouble our city, and teach customs which are not lawful for us to receive, nor to observe, being Romans. And the multitude rose up together against them; and the magistrates tore off their clothes, and commanded to beat them. And when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them into prison, charging the jailer to keep them safely: who, having received such a charge, thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks.”

The guilt of this persecution rested mainly on the magistrates and the multitude, and the jailer was no further responsible for it than as he was their agent in carrying it out. But that he was a careless sinner, appears with conclusive evidence from his conduct afterwards, when (ver. 26) “Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s bands were loosed. And the keeper of the prison awaking out of his deep, and seeing the prison-doors open, he drew out his sword and would have killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had fled.” We have here a lively delineation of a worldly, careless, godless man, distracted and driven to desperation by a sudden and unexpected temporal calamity. He supposed that his prisoners had escaped, and that he would be called to account by his earthly superiors, and condemned to forfeit the situation which he held. And immediately, under the influence of “that sorrow of the world which works death,” “he drew out his sword, and would have killed himself.” The thought of suicide was an indication of utter practical atheism; for it showed that he had no fear of God — since he was more afraid of “those who could kill the body, than of Him who could cast both soul and body into hell;” that he had no care for his soul — since he was ready to peril its salvation, merely because he apprehended the loss of his situation on earth; and that he had no concern, or rather was utterly reckless about eternity — since, to escape from the misery of the present hour, he was about to rush, unprepared and unsummoned, into the presence of his Judge.

The idea of suicide is one that could not have occurred to any man, however severe the trials, and however heavy the disappointments which he was called to endure, unless he were utterly ignorant or careless in regard alike to God, and to his own everlasting prospects. And from the fact that “he drew out his sword and would have killed himself,” we infer that up to the time when the earthquake occurred, he was a mere worldling — an indifferent, careless, and unawakened sinner.

But a change was wrought on His state of mind before his conversion, and it was only preparatory to that still greater change: from being a careless sinner, he became a convinced sinner. This preliminary change consisted in strong convictions of conscience, and lively apprehensions of danger. And these, although suddenly produced, were alike sincere and profound, insomuch that it is said (ver. 29), “He called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out, and said. Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” Here is a great change — a change from total apathy to real concern — from utter recklessness to sincere and anxious inquiry. He appears to have been suddenly seized with an agonizing sense of his guilt and danger. And there is an affecting contrast between his present convictions and his former carelessness. For the same danger existed then as now: his sins were as many and as great — God was as just, and holy, and terrible — eternity was as vast and awful when he didn’t think at all of these things as now, when in agitation and alarm, he could think of nothing else. His danger was not created by his convictions — it was only realized and impressed on his conscience. His state was as perilous before, when in the recklessness of unbelief, he drew a sword, and would have killed himself — as it was now, when with a newly awakened anxiety and earnestness, he was inquiring what he should do to be saved? But now he was brought under deep concern as to the state and prospects of his soul. He was convinced of his danger, and of the need of salvation. For his question was understood and answered by the apostles as having reference to his spiritual state and everlasting prospects. And this conviction, although suddenly awakened in the bosom of one who had till then been a careless sinner, may be accounted for by what he had seen and heard since the apostles had appeared at Philippi.

We find that the apostles had been certain days in that city; that Paul had preached by the riverside, “where prayer was usually made;” that Lydia had been converted, and had been baptized along with her household; and that a miracle had been wrought on the damsel possessed with a spirit of divination; — these things had occurred before that memorable night. And although the jailer might not have been personally present, he could hardly fail to hear the report of what had happened, as we find that the whole city was thrown into an uproar — and, “The multitude rose up together against the apostles, and the magistrates tore off their clothes, and commanded to beat them.” And besides the report of these things, the conduct of the apostles in prison was fitted to impart much instruction: lacerated with stripes, loaded perhaps with chains, and with their feet fast in the stocks. “At midnight Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises to God; and the prisoners heard them.” That song of praise in the dead of night, and within the walls of a public prison, bespoke a sustaining power which no persecution could crush — a peace which the world could neither give nor take away. And when the song ceased, and the prayer was ended, “Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and all the doors were opened, and everyone’s bands were loosed.”

These events, whether witnessed by the jailer, or reported to him when he awoke out of sleep, must have impressed his mind with the conviction that there was some unearthly greatness in these men, and some unseen power working on their behalf — especially when, in the midst of that awful scene in which the earth had opened and the foundations of the prison were shaken — and when in utter distraction and terror the jailer drew his sword, and would have killed himself — he heard Paul’s voice, rising calm and clear above the confusion, saying, “Do yourself no harm, for we are all here.” Such seem to have been the circumstances which awakened the conscience of this careless sinner, and brought it under the power of strong convictions. For, “Immediately he called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out, saying, Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”

But while a marked change had been wrought on his views and feelings — inasmuch as from being a very careless sinner, he had become a deeply convinced sinner — you will carefully observe that he was not yet a converted man. He was only at the stage of conviction which precedes conversion, but which is not always followed by it. He had strong remorse; but remorse is not repentance; — he had a deep sense of fear; but fear is not faith; — he had an awful apprehension of danger; but danger may be apprehended while the method of deliverance is unknown. These convictions were useful as preparatory means — as motives to serious inquiry and earnest attention. At the most, they were but hopeful symptoms; they neither amounted to conversion, nor did they afford any certain ground to expect that this great change would follow. For however profound such convictions may be, they are often stifled, resisted, and overcome. The careless sinner may be startled for a time from his slumber, but the transient alarm passing away, he may fall back again into the sleep of spiritual death; and the latter end of that man is worse than the beginning.

That the jailer was not yet converted, is evident from the question which he put to the apostles — a question which implies, indeed, that he was now convinced of his danger, and concerned for his soul, and impressed with the necessity of salvation, and willing to inquire after it — but it also implies that as yet he was ignorant of the method of salvation, and the ground of a sinner’s hope. No, his question seems to imply that, besides being ignorant as yet of the only ground of acceptance with God, he was — notwithstanding all his convictions — still disposed to look to something that he might do himself as the means of effecting his deliverance. For it is very remarkable that even when under an agonizing sense of guilt and danger, he came trembling to the apostles, his question to them was not — How can I be saved? but — what must I do to be saved? And this accords with the disposition and tendency of every natural mind. However deep his convictions may be, and however alarming his fears, the first impulse of every convinced sinner, before he is savingly converted, is to look to some efforts or doings of his own as the means of his deliverance. It is to resort to a reformation of life, or to deeds of charity, or to penance and self-mortification, or some other outward observance, in the vain hope that he may thereby construct for himself a ground of hope, and secure the forgiveness and favour of God. Down to the time that he put this question to the apostles, then, he was an unconverted man, although he had been so far changed from a careless sinner, to a convinced sinner.

2. Let us now consider the means by which his conversion was effected, as distinct from the circumstances by which it was preceded or accompanied. It is of considerable practical importance to separate these two, and to consider what is essential to conversion, apart from the mere circumstantial accompaniments which were peculiar to this individual’s case. Of the latter, we may mention the earthquake, the opening of the prison-doors, the bursting of the prisoners’ bands, and other such circumstances. In this particular case, these were employed as means of awakening the conscience and impressing the mind of a careless sinner. Whereas in other cases God brings about the same change without any such manifestation of miraculous power — sometimes by the ordinary dispensations of his providence, and at other times by the simple operation of his truth. It matters little by what circumstances a sinner is first awakened to inquire — whether by the earthquake, or the still small voice — provided only that he is convinced of his sin and danger, and led to inquire in earnest after the salvation of his soul.

But while the circumstances which may accompany this change are quite various in different cases, the means of conversion — that by which it is properly effected — are one and the same in all. It is nothing else than the truth as it is in Jesus, or the full and free Gospel of the grace of God. The jailer was not converted by the earthquake, and the shaking of the prison, and the opening of the prison-doors. On the contrary, the immediate effect of these miraculous events was such a terror and distraction of mind, that “he drew out his sword, and would have killed himself.” And even when they were made the means of awakening his conscience, and impressing him with a sense of danger, they only served the preparatory purpose of exciting him to earnest inquiry. But what the earthquake, and the other miraculous events of that memorable night could not do, was done by the simple proclamation of the Gospel message. For when he came to the apostles and, trembling under a sense of his guilt and danger, asked them, “Sirs! What must I do to be saved?” they immediately replied, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved.” And this word was the instrument of his conversion — the means by which the convinced sinner became a converted man!

In this short but comprehensive passage, we have only, as it were, the text of Paul’s discourse. For it is evident that he unfolded its meaning, and instructed the jailer fully in the truth, since it is added, “They spoke to him the Word of the Lord, and to all who were in his house.” His whole discourse is not recorded; but the substance of it is preserved in that precious answer which was given to the jailer’s question, and which contains in a few pregnant words a summary of the Gospel — a complete direction to every anxious inquirer after the way of peace. They directed him to look outside of himself to Christ — to relinquish all hope of salvation by works, and to seek salvation by faith — and to depend not at all on his own righteousness, but on another righteousness which God had provided, and which Christ had worked out for him. They exhorted him to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ — which implies first, that he should believe the truth concerning Christ, which is involved in the names which are given to Him here, and which, doubtless, was more fully explained in the subsequent address, such as:— that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God, and the Saviour of sinners; — that he was anointed by the Father with the Holy Ghost, and therefore to be received as the Christ of God, the Messiah that had been promised to the fathers; — that he was anointed for the discharge of his various offices — as God’s Prophet, to declare his mind and will — as God’s High Priest, to make atonement for sin and intercession for sinners — and as God’s King, to whom all power was given in heaven and on earth; — that once humbled, he was now exalted, so that every tongue should confess that he is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

All this is implied in the names which are given to him here: he is called Jesus, “because he would save his people from their sins;” — and Christ, because he is the Lord’s Anointed, to whom the Spirit was given without measure, in token of his designation by divine appointment, to the offices which he sustained, as well as to qualify him for effecting his great redemption; — and “Lord,” because he is highly exalted, not only in respect to the original dignity of his nature, but also in respect to the reward which he would earn, and the glory which would follow his humiliation, on the completion of his work. And the jailer was called, in the first instance, to believe these truths concerning Christ, because they constitute the means by which sinners are savingly converted — there being enough of Gospel truth in the very name of Jesus to be an adequate object of saving faith, and to work that great change. For “Whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ, is born of God,” — and “There is no other name given under heaven among men, whereby we must be saved, but the name of Jesus.”

The apostle’s exhortation further implies that believing the truth concerning Christ, the jailer should place his own personal trust and reliance on Christ alone — that he should come to him, and commit his soul into Christ’s hands, as one who is able to save to the very uttermost, and receive and embrace him as his own Saviour, in all the fulness of his offices, as he is freely offered in the Gospel. In other words, that he should believe the truth concerning Christ, with a special application of it to the case of his own soul — not resting in vague generalities, nor contenting himself with speculative inquiry, but closing with Christ as his own Saviour, and resting on him as all his salvation, and all his desire. For the apostle speaks pointedly to him, and says to him individually, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and YOU shall be saved.” Many precious lessons are taught by the apostle’s answer, which are applicable for the direction and encouragement of convinced sinners in all ages of the Church. But omitting these for the present, and confining our attention to the case of the individual before us, I will only observe that the general truth which he was called to believe concerning Christ, as the Anointed Saviour of sinners, afforded a sufficient warrant and reason for his immediately relying on Christ as his own Saviour; and that, when he was exhorted to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and encouraged to hope that he should be saved, he had presented to him the sum and substance of the Gospel message, which is glad tidings of great joy, even to the chief of sinners.

The Gospel thus proposed was the means of his conversion; and considered as a means, it was alike suitable and sufficient — suitable, as prescribing a remedy in all respects adapted to the evils which he felt or feared — and sufficient, as containing everything that was needed to instruct, or encourage, or persuade him. The Gospel is the only means, and it is an adequate means; but it is a means and nothing more. It is an instrument whose efficacy depends on its being applied by the Spirit. It is not said, indeed, of the Philippian Jailer, as it is said of Lydia in the same city — that “the Lord opened his heart;” but it is manifest that the Spirit most have concurred with the Word. The mere Word will not do it. If you doubt this, the same words are now, and have often been addressed to you, and with a special application to each of your souls — “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved.” You have read these words, and you have often heard them before; and even this much of God’s truth is sufficient to convert a sinner, and to bring about a sudden and universal change — but only when it is applied with power by the Holy Ghost. For your own experience may serve to convince you that the same words which converted the jailer may be repeated often, and pressed with earnestness, and fully unfolded and explained, and yet leave you as unconcerned and unconverted as before. So the jailer might have been in danger, and yet have cherished his former security — or he might have been visited with convictions of conscience, and yet have stifled them — or he might have been alarmed, without inquiring after salvation — or he might have inquired, without discovering the truth — or he might have heard the truth, without believing it — had not the Spirit of God convinced him of his danger, and awakened a spirit of earnest inquiry, and made known to him the Gospel, and disposed and enabled him to receive and rest upon Christ, as all his salvation and all his desire.

3. We are now to consider the nature of that great change which was thus wrought on his mind, or what it properly consisted of, and the practical fruits which followed it.

It is clear that his conversion properly consisted in his complying with the apostle’s exhortation — by “believing in the Lord Jesus Christ.” Until he believed, he was unconverted; but as soon as he believed, he became a converted man. The production of true faith is a new creation — it is not a mere change of opinion, but a radical and thorough renovation of mind, in virtue of which it may be said that from the same hour in which he “believed in the Lord Jesus Christ,” he became “a new creature: old things passed away; all things became new.” Not that it is a small matter to be born again, but it is a great thing to believe. Many who have never questioned their own faith in Christianity, and who presume that they are believers merely because they have not opposed it, may be totally unconscious of anything in their own experience which bears any resemblance to that of the Philippian jailer. Under deep convictions of conscience, and with an earnest desire after salvation, he was first taught the truth concerning Christ, and enabled to form a vivid and realizing conception of his office and power, as the real, only, and all-sufficient Saviour of sinners. But everyone who, like him, has been really awakened to a sense of his sin and danger, and who has been led to contemplate Christ in his true character, and really to believe in him for salvation, will acknowledge that in the instant when he acquired the first inward conviction of the truth, he passed, as it were, from darkness into marvellous light — that he then experienced a very great change in all his views and feelings — that a new mind was given to him, and a new life seemed to have begun — in that he felt as the blind man did when he was restored to sight. “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.”

A real, simple, and scriptural FAITH is that essential element, without which there can be no conversion, and in which conversion properly consists. But uniformly, this faith has certain accompaniments and effects which are so many proofs of its genuineness and tokens of its efficacy. The “faith which is without works is dead, being alone;” but living faith works by love. And it is deeply interesting to mark, in the short and simple narrative of the jailer’s conversion, how soon and how surely the faith of the gospel is followed by the peaceable fruits of righteousness. For that, narrative bears —

1st, That he thirsted for more instruction; that he hungered for the bread of life; and was solicitous to know more of divine truth. For after hearing the answer which the apostles gave to his question, it is said (ver. 32), “They spoke to him the Word of the Lord;” just as it is said that those who on the day of Pentecost “gladly received the Word,” “continued stedfastly in the apostle’s doctrine and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in prayers.”

2d, That he was concerned, not only for his own soul, but also for the souls of his family; for “all who were in his house “were brought together to hear the Word.

3d, That his faith wrought by love, producing gratitude and kindness to his instructors; for “he took them the same hour of the night and washed their stripes,” — “and when he had brought them out, he set food before them.”

4th, That he had peace and joy in believing: his fears were removed, and in their stead a new happiness sprang up in his bosom; for “he rejoiced, believing in God with all his house.”

And finally, he made an open profession of his faith, and evinced his entire submission to the authority of Christ, by consenting to be baptized with all his family, and thereby declared that even in the midst of a city where magistrates and people were alike opposed to the religion he professed, he was “not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ,” since he had felt it to be “the power of God unto salvation to everyone who believes.”

In this narrative we have an interesting example of true scriptural conversion. And we may deduce from it several instructive lessons which are applicable for the benefit of the Church in all ages. We learn from it such lessons as these: —

1. That men in their unconverted state are often utterly careless, and destitute alike of all fear of God, of all concern for their souls, and of all solicitude about death, and judgment, and eternity. This was the character of the jailer when he was about to rush unprepared into the presence of his judge. And it is the character of many among ourselves, who have never felt that religion was a great reality — nor experienced any deep impressions of its awful truths — nor spent a single hour in the serious consideration of the state of their souls, the relation in which they stand to God, and their future prospects in eternity; and who, “having no fear of God before their eyes,” have no sympathy with those who are in earnest on the subject of religion, but are disposed to ridicule their exercises and their experience as the dreams of fanaticism. This utter insensibility — this death-like apathy — is one of the worst symptoms of a man’s spiritual State.

2. While they are thus careless, God is often pleased to make use of some solemn and awakening dispensation of providence to arouse and alarm them — as the earthquake was employed in the case before us, and the unloosing of the prisoners, which threatened the jailer with temporal ruin. So God brings a careless sinner into sudden and imminent danger, or visits him with affliction, with disease of body, or bereavement in his family, or embarrassment in his worldly affairs — and this is because, “when they have no changes, the men of the world do not fear God.” (Psa 55.19) But when struck by the rod of his providence, they may be awakened to serious thought. These afflictive dispensations are often useful as preparatory means; and many a Christian may trace his first serious impressions to a season of personal or domestic trial. But of themselves, they are not effectual for thorough conversion, and in point of fact, often fall far short of it. This is evident in the case of Israel of old, of whom it is said, “When he slew them, then they sought him, and they returned and inquired early after God; and they remembered that God was their Rock, and the high God their Redeemer. Nevertheless they flattered Him with their mouth, and lied to Him with their tongues. For their heart was not right with him, neither were they stedfast in his covenant.’’

3. Sometimes the trials and disappointments of careless sinners only serve to exasperate their natural enmity. And instead of producing a meek, and quiet, and broken spirit, they issue in the “sorrow of the world which works death” — as was the case of the jailer when, under the pressure of unexpected calamity, his first impulse was to draw his sword and kill himself — and Ahithophel, who “when he saw that his counsel was not followed, saddled his donkey, and arose, and went home to his house, to his city. He put his household in order, and hanged himself, and died, and was buried in the sepulchre of his father.”

4. But in other cases, a work of conviction is wrought in the conscience, which may be more or less intense, and of longer or shorter duration, but it is in some degree essential to saving conversion. Such conviction of guilt and danger impressed the mind of the jailer when he came trembling and said, “What must I do to be saved?” This is a hopeful symptom, but it is not a decisive proof of a saving change. On the contrary, such convictions are often stifled and suppressed; and instead of subduing, they exasperate — as in the case of Felix, who trembled while Paul preached, but was not converted; — and of those in the Acts, who were “cut to the heart” by the apostle’s doctrine, but only “gnashed at him with their teeth;” and of others who “were cut to the heart,” and only “took counsel to slay them.” Convictions are useful only when they produce an earnest spirit of thoughtfulness, and lead the sinner to inquire, “What must I do to be saved?”

5. The Gospel, which is mainly designed to reveal an answer to that question of an awakened conscience, is the only effectual instrument of conversion. Other means may concur in carrying forward the preparatory process, but this alone can work the great, the saving change. All other expedients are worse than useless — they are pernicious and fatal to the soul. The only answer that should be given in any case, or in any circumstances, to the question, “What must I do to be saved?” is the answer that was returned to the Philippian Jailer — “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved.”

And the circumstances in which that answer was given throw an interesting light on both the perfect freeness of the Gospel, and the certainty of salvation to everyone who believes — on its freeness, as being proposed even to the chief of sinners. For Paul, you will observe, had no scruple in proposing the full Gospel to the jailer at the instant when he came to him, although up till then, he had been a careless, unconverted man. He did not say to him. You have been a great sinner, I have no Gospel for you; a little while ago you drew your sword, and were about to commit suicide; how can you hope to be saved? — No; but to this trembling sinner he said instantly, and without any qualification or reserve, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ;” and that answer is the sinner’s warrant at the present hour. It throws an interesting light on the certainty of salvation; for he did not say, Believe, and you may be saved; but believe, and you shall be saved. There is no doubt, no uncertainty, no cautious reserve — but an absolute assurance; and that assurance is the sinner’s encouragement at the present hour. To every sinner, however careless, and however deeply convinced of sin, we are warranted by the apostle’s example, in saying fully and freely, without any conditions or exceptions, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved.”

6. Conviction ends in conversion only when a true sense of sin is combined with a belief of the Gospel, or an apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ. The careless sinner may become a convinced sinner by the operation of natural conscience, or by the power of the law, aided by the awakening dispensations of Providence. But he does not become a converted man until he believes the truth as it is in Jesus, and realizes the fact that Jesus is the Christ. Conversion properly consists in the production of repentance and faith; and a new birth is followed by a new life. Conversion by the Word produces conformity to the will of God, and faith is fruitful of works. All these truths are exemplified in the case of the jailer at Philippi, and are confirmed by the experience of every believer at the present day.

CHAPTER 2. The Dying Malefactor.

Luk 23.32-43

The crucifixion of the Lord Jesus was so ordered as to furnish a striking illustration, at once of the depth of his abasement, and the certainty of his reward. To enhance the agony and the shame of his death, he was crucified between two thieves — being “numbered with the transgressors.” He was placed on the same level, in public view, with men whose lives had been justly forfeited by their crimes, and subjected in his last moments, to the painful spectacle of their sufferings. But to evince the certainty of his reward — to make it manifest that “the joy which was set before him” and for which “he endured the cross, despising the shame,” would be realized — and to give him as it were a pledge in hand, that “he would see the travail of his soul, and be satisfied” — one of the thieves who suffered along with him was suddenly converted. And in the lowest depths of the Redeemer’s humiliation — in the darkest hour of the power of darkness, when Satan’s policy seemed to be crowned with complete success — this immortal soul was snatched as a brand from the burning, and given to Christ as a pledge of his triumph, and the firstfruits of a glorious harvest.

While others mocked and reviled Him, and when his chosen disciples stood aloof, the dying malefactor relented — his conscience awoke — his heart was touched. And amidst the ridicule, and the execrations, and the blasphemies of that awful hour, one solitary voice was heard issuing from the cross beside him, which called him “Lord,” and which spoke of his “KINGDOM” in accents of faith, and penitence, and prayer. And how that voice must have gladdened the Saviour’s heart! and imparted to him, in the midst of his bitterest agony, a foretaste as it were of the “joy that was set before him” — exhibiting, as it did, a proof of the efficacy of his death, the faithfulness of God’s covenant promise, and the certainty of his reward! For if even now, on the cross and before his work was finished, this stricken spirit fled to him for refuge, and was quickened into spiritual life in the very hour of death — wasn’t it a sure pledge and earnest that He would yet bring many sons and daughters to glory, when being exalted to the throne by God’s right hand, he would receive the promise of the Father, and shed forth the Spirit from on high?

I. In reference to the state of this man’s mind before the time of his conversion, nothing is recorded that would lead us to suppose that he had ever thought seriously about religion, or acquired any knowledge of the Gospel, until he was brought to Calvary. He is described as a malefactor, and more specifically, as a thief or robber — a desperate character — fearing neither God nor man; whose crimes exposed him to the highest penalties of the law. And his own confession admits the justice of the sentence under which he suffered — “We receive the due reward of our deeds.’’ On a comparison of the parallel passages in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, it would seem that at first he had joined with the other malefactor in reviling the Saviour. For in the one it is said, “The thieves who were also crucified with him, cast the same in his teeth;” and in the other, “Those who were crucified with him reviled him;” — expressions which may indeed be generally interpreted as descriptive of Christ’s extreme humiliation in being subjected to reproach from such a quarter. This class of men was spoken of as partaking in the crime of embittering his last moments, just as the soldiers are said to have filled a sponge with vinegar, because one or more of them did so. But if they are understood as applying specifically to each of the two, they are sufficient to show that the one who was converted, was at first as ungodly and as guilty as the other.

But immediately before his conversion, and preparatory to it, a change seems to have been wrought in the state of his mind — a change which consisted in a deep conviction of sin, and a just sense of his own demerit on account of it. For when one of the malefactors railed on Jesus, the other “rebuked him, saying, Don’t you fear God, seeing that you are in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds.” The whole process was so suddenly accomplished in this case, that it is difficult to say whether, in order of time, the convictions which are expressed in this remarkable confession preceded, by any perceptible interval, his cordial reception of the truth. But just as in the order of nature, conviction precedes conversion, we may consider it as part of his experience while he was yet in a state of transition from darkness to light. The words of his confession imply that his conscience, which by the commission of crime, might have been seared as with a hot iron, was now deeply impressed with a sense of sin. And it was a true sense of sin — not the mere “sorrow of the world which works death;” but godly sorrow, working towards genuine repentance. For although the condemnation which he speaks of might be the temporal sentence of death, pronounced and executed by his fellow-men, his language shows that he viewed his guilt with reference not merely to men, but to God also — to God, as the supreme Lawgiver and the final Judge. As a resident at Jerusalem, or at least in Judea, the seat of true religion, he had probably enjoyed some of the advantages of early religious instruction, and had been taught some of the elementary truths of Scripture. For he speaks of God, the only living and true God, whose name he knew and feared, although he had lived in violation of His law. The thought of God as a Lawgiver and Judge was now vividly present to his mind. And the conception of God’s character, combined with the inherent power of conscience — which is never altogether extinguished, even in the breasts of the most depraved — produced that conviction of sin which is invariably accompanied with the fear of God, and of a judgment to come. So long as God can be kept out of view, there may be a secret consciousness of guilt, without any sensible alarm or apprehension of danger. And hence the malefactor’s question to his hardened fellow-sufferer, “Don’t you fear God?” But as soon as God is present to the mind, every conscience intuitively connects guilt with danger, and awakens fear of the wrath to come, for conscience instinctively points to God as a Judge — to God as an avenger.

But in the case before us, as in every other, where there is a commencement of a work of grace in the heart, conviction of sin was accompanied not only with the fear of danger, but with such a sense of demerit, that it led to the acknowledgment that punishment was justly deserved. This is not always implied in the mere terrors of an awakened conscience, and it would be altogether repudiated by a conscience still asleep. The malefactor who railed at Jesus might not be able to deny his guilt, and he might yield himself as a passive and unresisting victim to the arm of public justice, merely because he could not, by any resistance, escape from the punishment of his crimes. But had he been asked to acknowledge that he justly merited the bitter death which he was called to endure, he too would probably have denied that he was so guilty as to deserve such a punishment, and complained of the hardship and severity of his case.

In reference to God, the supreme Judge, and the retributions of an eternal world, he seems to have had no fear. For he could join — even at that solemn hour and in spite of his own sufferings — in the insults and blasphemies which were poured out on the meek and lowly Saviour. But even had his conscience been so far awakened as to impress him with the fear of God and eternity, he might still have been utterly destitute of that deep sense of the evil nature of sin, which led his fellow-suffer to acknowledge that he was receiving only the due reward of his deeds. A convinced sinner may tremble, as Felix did, when he heard of temperance, and righteousness, and the judgment to come. And he may be conscious of a deep horror when he hears of “the worm that never dies, and the fire that cannot be quenched.” Yet the omniscient eye of Him who can analyse the confused emotions of a sinner’s heart, might not discern any one element of genuine contrition there. On the contrary, He might find the fear of wrath, and the dread of hell, combined with an invincible spirit of opposition to God’s authority — an undying reluctance to condemn his own sin, and an unyielding determination to deny the rectitude and reasonableness of its penalty. And therefore, when the poor malefactor was so far convinced of his sin, as to be impressed not only with a sense of his danger, but also with a sense of his demerit, and of God’s justice, we see the commencement of a great change — which affords the best and most hopeful symptom of his ultimate and entire conversion.

II. While he was thus changed so as to have become a convinced sinner, he was not yet a converted man — but his conversion immediately followed. It will be interesting to now inquire into the circumstances which accompanied, and the means which effected that great change, under God’s blessing. It was alike complete and sudden — it was wrought, like the conversion of the jailer, in a short space of time. And yet it amounted to an entire revolution in all his views and habits, insomuch, that he became a new man — and born on the cross, he passed into heaven. Now, what was there in the circumstances in which he was placed, and in the means which were brought to bear upon him, that could account for so great a change?

IF we place ourselves in his circumstances — if by a strong mental effort, we bring ourselves to look at the scene which he saw, and to realize by the eye of faith, what then passed before the eye of sense — if joining the crowd which thronged the judgment-hall of Pilate, we listened with the same personal interest which the poor thief must have felt as Pilate made the proposal to release one or the other of the condemned — if we then joined the tumultuous procession, and followed the meek sufferer as he slowly walked along with the thieves, followed by a great company of people, and women who lamented and bewailed him — if we heard the words of warning and consolation which he spoke to the daughters of Jerusalem — if we stood beside him on the hill when the cross which Simeon was honoured to bear, was firmly planted in the ground — if we saw “the man of sorrows” carried by violence, and nailed to the accursed tree — if we looked at his benignant countenance, and listened to his awful words — if we beheld the sudden darkening of the sky, and the rending of the rocks, which gave a deep impressiveness to the scene —

THEN, with our knowledge of the personal dignity of the sufferer, the causes, design, and end of his death, and the fulness of all gospel truth which is embodied in his cross, we could have no difficulty in conceiving how such a scene, so witnessed and so understood, might have converted any sinner to God. It is indeed, nothing else than a spiritual view of the scene then witnessed on Calvary, which is the chief means of every conversion — the cross of Christ being to every instructed disciple, “the power of God and the wisdom of God” unto salvation — insomuch, that every believer will say with the apostle, “God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Looking back to that scene with the eye of faith, the Christian derives from it all his most sublime views, and holiest impressions of the truth; he delights to contemplate what the poor malefactor was then privileged to witness. And as often as he reviews the events of that awful hour, he is filled with awe and wonder, with admiration, and gratitude, and joy.

But while the scene at Calvary must appear to every instructed mind, the most solemnly interesting and the most profoundly instructive scene which was ever witnessed on earth — it was quite possible that, to an unenlightened mind, it might fail to impart any spiritual or salutary impression. And we are to put ourselves into the place of this poor malefactor, and inquire what were the means of his conversion, when it is clear that he came to Calvary in a state of great ignorance and guilt, and yet was suddenly brought out of darkness into marvellous light.

We have already seen that he had been brought under such convictions of sin, that are sufficient to show that, depraved and guilty as he had been, he still had a conscience in his breast, and some notion (however obscure and feeble) of God as a Lawgiver, Governor, and Judge. He was a man — a poor, wretched, and degraded man — but still a man, and therefore a fit and capable subject of conversion. And partly from the light of nature, which is never altogether extinguished; and partly from his early education in a country where the knowledge and worship of the true God were established; he had acquired the knowledge of some elementary truths — such as the being and providence of God, the difference between right and wrong, and the demerit and sure punishment of sin. This was sufficient to awaken remorse and apprehension, but it had no power to effect his conversion. Real conversion to God depends on the knowledge and belief of the truth as it is in Jesus. How, then, was this poor malefactor converted, and where did he derive his acquaintance with that truth which alone makes wise unto salvation? Oh! it is deeply interesting to mark how a heart that has been opened by the Spirit of God, and awakened to earnest and serious inquiry, will pick up the fragments of Gospel truth in whatever form they may be presented to it, and find nourishment in the very crumbs which fall from the Master ‘s table! For in the case before us, there was no formal discourse — no full disclosure of doctrine — no systematic instruction. But his eye was opened to observe, and his ear to hear, and his heart to receive the truth, as it was presented incidentally during his progress from Pilate’s hall to the hill of Calvary, and exhibited before his crucifixion there. [60] And there are just three sources from which he derived those simple lessons which sufficed for his conversion:

The FIRST was, the testimony of Christ’s friends — not only the testimony of Pilate, who declared that he had “found no fault in him,’’ but that of many others who bore witness to his spotless character, and of whom it is said (ver. 27), that “There followed a great company of people, and of women, who also bewailed and lamented him.” The innocence of Christ was thus impressed on the malefactor’s mind, and is pointedly referred to in his confession — “We receive the due reward of our deeds, but this man has done nothing amiss.”

The SECOND was, the deportment of Christ — the meek majesty of that suffering Saviour — the words he uttered, breathing a spirit so different from that of this world. These seem to have deepened the impression of his innocence and worth. His address to the daughters of Jerusalem, so solemn, yet so tender; and still more, the prayer for his murderers — “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” That address and this prayer, pronounced at such an hour — the one exhibiting a prophet’s faithfulness, the other a Saviour’s love, and both breathing a spirit of meek submission to God’s will — intimated the guilt of sin, the certainty of future judgment, and the necessity of forgiveness. These few words, uttered in such circumstances, might reveal to the poor malefactor such a view of Christ as would irresistibly impress him with the conviction that He was no common sufferer, and that His was no ordinary death. They might constrain him to believe He was none other than the Son of God, and the Saviour of men — the Son of God, for he calls him Father — and the Saviour of men, for he prayed for the forgiveness of his very murderers.

But there was a THIRD: he was not left to ponder the scene without a commentary, and that commentary was furnished by the Saviour’s enemies — first of all, in the sneers and blasphemies which they uttered; and secondly, in the inscription which was put on the cross. They didn’t mean it so, but in these, they gave such a testimony to the Saviour, that it sufficed for the conversion of his fellow-sufferer. “The rulers,” we read, derided him, saying, “He saved others.” Yes, he saved others; he had healed the sick, and given eyes to the blind, and ears to the deaf, and life to the dead — and that testimony to Christ’s miraculous power sunk deep into the heart of the dying man beside him. But who was this to whom his very enemies gave witness, that “he saved others;” or what did he profess to be? The dying malefactor also learned this from their lips: “Let him save himself, if he is the Christ, the chosen of God,” — “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself;” and they put a superscription over him — “This is the king of the Jews.” These words, used in ridicule or rancorous hatred, conveyed to the mind of the malefactor the idea of what Christ claimed and professed to be. And when combined with what he had seen and heard — with the testimony which had been given to his miraculous powers, now confirmed by the preternatural darkness of the sky, and the rending of the rocks — with what he had witnessed of his godlike bearing, “full of grace and truth,” and with the words which had fallen from his lips — they carried to this man’s heart the conviction that the illustrious sufferer was indeed the Son of God, the Christ, the Messiah that had been promised to the fathers — the one who, though suspended on the cross, was the king; and if a king, then he had a kingdom; and immediately the prayer of faith broke from his quivering lips, “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom!”

III. If we now consider the nature of the great change which was thus suddenly produced, or what it properly consisted in, and the results which flowed from it, we will find that the turning point of his conversion was his believing that Jesus was the Christ. This was precisely the point in question, both with the scornful multitude and the subdued malefactor. They doubted — he believed. They required another kind of evidence — “Let him come down from the cross, and we will believe in him:” he did not come down from the cross, but having died there, he arose from the dead, and their unbelief remained. But the dying malefactor, satisfied with the evidence already given, saw his glory through the veil of his humiliation. And embracing Him in his true character as the Christ, the chosen of God, he believed to the saving of his soul.

It was simply by faith — and by faith in the simple truth that Jesus is the Christ — that this man passed from death unto life. But here was great faith indeed. For consider the circumstances in which Christ was then placed. He was in the lowest depths of his humiliation — in the most extreme hour of his agony on the accursed tree — suffering the sentence of death as a public criminal — surrounded by multitudes who ridiculed and reviled him — forsaken by his chosen disciples, and complaining that he had been forsaken by God himself. Yet in these circumstances of humiliation, and sorrow, and shame, the dying malefactor called him Lord, and spoke of his kingdom, and addressed him in the language of prayer! Yes, when Jesus was slowly dying on the cross, and had no prospect of life, still less of a kingdom on earth, the poor malefactor showed at once the greatness of his faith, and his correct apprehension of the nature of Christ’s kingdom — by uttering a prayer which implied in it the hope of his own immortality, and of a spiritual and eternal kingdom in heaven.

Here was a manifestation of faith to which we can find no parallel in the history of the apostles themselves. They called him Lord after his resurrection; but this man called him Lord on the very cross; — they spoke of his kingdom, but doubtfully, and with many gross earthly anticipations: “We trusted that it was he who would redeem Israel;” and, “Lord! will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” But this man speaks of his kingdom as a future inheritance, whose certainty was not affected by his shameful and ignominious death. And believing in Christ as the Lord’s Anointed — the Messiah which had been promised to the others — he embraced him as his own Saviour. Doubtless encouraged by the grace which he had witnessed, and by that most merciful prayer for his murderers, he felt that he could confide and trust in such a friend. And therefore, he addressed him in the language of believing prayer — “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

This prayer is alike touching from its simplicity, and remarkable for its comprehensive brevity. He seemed to ask little, and yet he asked everything that was necessary for his everlasting welfare. “Lord remember me,” was his simple and modest request. But it included much — it cast him on the Saviour’s care — it put his soul into the Saviour’s hands — it expressed his faith, his dependence, his desire, and his hope: as if he had said, I am a poor dying sinner: you are a king going to your kingdom — you can save me. I leave myself in your hands; I lean on your love; Lord! remember me!

The circumstances of the case did not allow for that full exhibition of the practical fruits of conversion which adorn the life and conversation of every true believer; for he was converted at the eleventh hour; and he was no sooner converted than he died and entered into glory. We have, however, even in this brief narrative, some precious indications of the great moral change which had been wrought on his mind and heart. He evinced a true sense of sin; a thorough conviction of its demerit; a just apprehension of the punishment that was due for it; an awful fear of God; a lively trust and confidence in the Saviour; a serious thoughtfulness in regard to the future; a disposition to pray; and a new-born but honest zeal for righteousness and truth. This prompted him to rebuke his fellow-sufferer in these remarkable words — “Don’t you fear God, seeing that you are in the same condemnation; and we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds.” And these new principles and feelings would no doubt have evinced their power by altering all his habits and his whole course of life, had life been prolonged. It is true that in many cases, serious thoughts of God, and judgment, and eternity, are often awakened in the souls of unconverted men, when they have the near prospect of death; and that in many cases, when health is restored and life prolonged, they “vanish like the morning cloud, and the early dew.” So that, in the case of most late conversions, there is a painful feeling of doubt as to the genuineness and stability of those good resolutions which are awakened in the mere prospect of death. They must prevent very certain deliverance on the actual state and eternal prospects of those who are not spared, to verify their profession by a consistent Christian life. But in the instance before us, there is no room for doubt: we have the infallible testimony of Christ himself, sealing this man’s conversion, and assuring him of eternal glory. The grand result of the change that was wrought upon him on the cross, is declared in these words — “Truly, I say to you, this day you shall be with me in paradise.” No sooner was the prayer uttered, than the promise was given; and that promise, was to be immediately fulfilled. The Lord gives more than was asked: the malefactor’s request was, “Lord, remember me,” but the answer far exceeded the demand. It spoke to him of paradise, and of Christ’s presence there, and of his admission that very day. What a sudden transition — what a glorious change! A malefactor condemned to die for his crimes — led to Calvary, that he might be nailed to a cross — converted there as he hung between life and death, on the brink of eternity — and on the self-same day, he was born again, justified, adopted, saved; translated from earth to heaven — from Calvary to Paradise — from a cross of shame, to a throne of glory!

On a review of the interesting narrative to which our attention has been directed, we may derive from it many instructive lessons which are applicable to all sinners at the present day.

1. It exhibits a remarkable proof of the Saviour’s power. That this malefactor was a great sinner, only serves to show that the One by whom he was delivered, was a great Saviour. That he had reached the extreme point of guilt, and the very end of life, only serves to make it clear that, “Christ is able to save to the uttermost.” The power of Christ to subdue the most hardened sinner; and his power to cancel the most aggravated guilt; and his power to open the gate of heaven, and secure our admission there; — all this is evinced with undeniable certainty by the fact that even in the lowest depths of His humiliation, before his work was finished or his reward secured, he snatched this brand from the burning, and rescued this captive from the power of Satan, and carried him as a trophy from the cross, when he entered within the veil. And oh! if such was Christ’s power then, who should now despair who knows that Jesus, then upon the cross, is now upon the throne — exalted as a Prince and Saviour, to give repentance and remission of sins.

2. It exhibits a precious proof of the perfect freeness of His grace. Loaded with crime, and standing on the very verge of an eternal world, what could have been of any avail to this poor sinner but grace, and grace that was perfectly free? Righteousness, he had none; good works, he had none; he was self-convicted and self-condemned; and he had nothing before him but the certain fearful expectation of judgment, unless God had grace, and that grace were free. But when he heard the Saviour pray for his murderers — when he heard Him pray for their forgiveness, the idea of free grace to pardon sin seems to have entered into his inmost soul, and he ventured to ask that the Lord would remember him. And immediately, such was the grace of Christ, that he required no previous qualifications, demanded no acquired merit, imposed no conditions, and made no stipulations of any kind. But He gave him at once an answer in peace, and a full and irreversible promise of admission into glory — and this, too, while He was in such agony as might have been expected to concentrate all his care upon himself. Yet even then, he had room in his heart for the sorrows of this poor sinner.

3. It has been remarked that in the Bible this is a solitary example of a man being converted at the hour of death. There was one such instance, that none may despair; and only one, that none may presume. Presumption and despair are the two great rocks on which we are ever in danger of making shipwreck; and this narrative may well serve to guard us against both. Against despair — for why should any man despair who reads of the thief who was converted on the cross; and against presumption — for who dares to presume, when he reads that there was another thief on another cross, who died unconverted there? The hoariest sinner that lives may be encouraged by the one; but the boldest sinner may be deterred by the other. “The one was taken, and the other left.”

4. We learn from this narrative how little of God’s truth may serve for conversion, if that truth is suitably improved by the hearer, and savingly applied by the Spirit. The penitent on the cross was saved by means of mere fragments of truth, and these were presented to him in the blasphemies of Christ’s accusers and the inscription on his cross. This is a delightful thought when it is viewed in connection with the case of the poor and ignorant, and of others who live under a dark or defective dispensation of truth. But it is unutterably solemn, when viewed in connection with our own case. For how will we escape if we die unconverted after the light we have received — the many sermons we have heard — the great amount of truth which we have slighted and despised?

5. We learn that at the instant of his conversion, a sinner acquires all the rights and privileges of a child of God; and that, if he dies immediately thereafter, he will immediately pass into glory. No sooner was this malefactor converted, than he was assured by the Lord himself, that on the self-same day, he would be with Him in paradise. Had he lived on earth, he would have been capable of growth and increase in grace. But the new creature, although but a newborn babe, is entire in all its members, and capable of entering into the kingdom, however short its earthly span.

CHAPTER 3. Paul.

Acts 9.1-22.

This ease of conversion is, in many respects, the most remarkable of all the examples which the Spirit of God has recorded for the instruction of the Church. Saul of Tarsus, the Jewish persecutor, was suddenly converted into Paul, the Christian philanthropist, the zealous apostle of the Gentiles. And whether we consider the masculine talents, education, learning, and morals of the man; or the suddenness and magnitude of the change which was wrought upon him; or the rich and varied fruits of personal holiness, and public usefulness which sprang from it — we will discover ample reason for regarding him as one of the signal monuments of the riches and the efficacy of divine grace. It is peculiarly fortunate, too, that in this instance, our materials are so abundant, that there can be no difficulty in forming a correct conception both of his state of mind before his conversion, and of his experience afterwards. For not only do we have three distinct accounts of his conversion in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 9.1-22; 22.9; 26.4-9), but several instructive references to it in some of his epistles (such as Gal 1.13; 1Cor. 15.9) — while every part of his writings teems with illustrations of the magnitude and extent of that great spiritual change by which the persecutor became a preacher of the faith he had despised.

I. In reference to the state of his mind before his conversion, we derive much interesting information from various parts of his writings. It is evident, I think, that in point of intellectual culture and attainment, as well as natural vigour and energy of mind, he was superior not only to most of the primitive converts, but to all his fellow-apostles. It appears that, from his infancy, he had shared in the rich advantages of a liberal education; and that, as he advanced in years, he was introduced to lettered and cultivated society, which his capacious mind was qualified at once to appreciate and to improve. In a notice which is incidentally given of his early life, we read that he was born in Tarsus, the chief city of Cilicia, a capital long distinguished as a University, where Grecian learning was taught with eminent success. Whether he attended that University or not is uncertain. But from the frequent and appropriate quotations which he makes in several of his speeches and epistles, taken from the poets and philosophers of Greece, it is certain that there, or elsewhere, he had acquired a knowledge of polite literature, and a taste for the pursuits of learning.

He could speak to the polished Athenians on Mars’ hill, in their own exquisite tongue (Act 17.22.). During his abode at Tarsus, he had in part followed the occupation of his father, as a tent-maker — for it was the custom of good families among the Jews to bring up their children in a trade, even if they were destined for the more liberal pursuits of learning. And the advantage of this early training was afterwards exemplified in the experience of this remarkable man. We find that, while he was still young, he left Tarsus, and repaired to Jerusalem, the chief seat at once of Jewish learning and religion. It was probably with the view of pursuing his scriptural studies, and qualifying himself for the sacred office of scribe, or doctor of the law. And there he enjoyed the privilege of studying under Gamaliel, who is described as “a member of the council, and doctor of the law, held in respect among all the people.” He had enjoyed, then, the best opportunities which his age afforded, for becoming acquainted both with Greek and Jewish literature. And that he had genius to relish, and industry to profit by these advantages, appears from his wonderful writings and labours in later life, as well as from his own testimony — “I am truly a Jew, born in Tarsus, a city of Cilicia, yet brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, and taught according to the perfect manner of the law of the fathers;” — “And I profited in the Jews’ religion above many of my equals,” or contemporaries, “in my own nation.”

In respect, again, to his religious opinions and moral habits, it is clear that he was by conviction, as well as in profession, a Jew — holding the faith of the Old Testament, and observing the worship of the one living and true God. He did this in opposition to all the false but seductive forms of polytheistic superstition which prevailed among the other nations, and which had been adorned with all the attractions of poetry, and painting, and sculpture, by the genius of Greece and Rome. And he was not only a Jew, but a Pharisee, a strict professor of the Jewish faith, maintaining in opposition to the Sadducees (who in both their principles and habits, were the libertines of the age), those grand doctrines which they had discarded — such as the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the body, and the certainty of a judgment to come. And he exhibited in his outward deportment, a fair, and even a strict example, both of ceremonial observance and civil virtue. His own account of his early life shows that he was never, either in his own estimation, or in that of his fellowmen, irreligious or immoral. On the contrary, he says, “My manner of life from my youth, which was at first among my own nation at Jerusalem, all the Jews know. They knew me from the beginning, if they were to testify, that after the strictest sect of our religion, I lived a Pharisee.” (Act 26.4-5) “And I profited in the Jews’ religion above many of my equals in my own nation, being more exceedingly zealous of the traditions of my fathers.” (Gal 1.14) “Though I might also have confidence in the flesh. If any other man thinks that he has something of which he might trust in the flesh, I have more: circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee; concerning zeal, persecuting the Church; touching the righteousness which is in the law, blameless.” (Phi 3.4)

Such is the account which he gives us of his character before his conversion — an account which may at first sight, appear to be inconsistent with those humbling confessions, and those deep penitential feelings which he uttered in other parts of his writings, where he speaks of himself as “less than the least of all saints,” and as the very “chief of sinners.” But on further reflection, these expressions, when compared together, will only serve to show that the fairest exterior may conceal an unsanctified heart; and that a correct creed, and a moral life, may well consist with the absolute necessity of regeneration. It is not said that he was anything more than a Pharisee; and our Lord himself declared to his disciples, “Unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, you will in no way enter into the kingdom of God.” Paul knew the law in its letter, and yet he was ignorant of its spirit and power. For at a subsequent period, he made this acknowledgment — “I was alive without the law once; but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.” By the law is the knowledge of sin: but it is by the law spiritually understood. And hence he was destitute of any true sense of sin, till he was impressed with the spirituality of the law. “I would not have known sin, unless the law had said, You shall not covet.” In this state of mind, he was neither more nor less than a zealous formalist — resting in the correctness of his creed, and the decency of his life, and the strictness of his religious observances — while his heart was far from being right with God. And he shared largely in the character which is ascribed to the sect to which he belonged, when it is said of them that, “they trusted in themselves that they were righteous; and despised others.”

In respect, again, to his views of Christ and the Gospel, he was not only an unbeliever, but a violent persecutor of the Christian Church. Here is a melancholy combination of apparently opposite and incompatible qualities of character: a learned, religious, moral, and self-righteous man, evincing a disposition to oppress and exterminate the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus. We read that, at Stephen’s martyrdom, “the witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man’s feet, whose name was Saul;” and that “Saul was consenting to his death.” And during the great persecution which followed, it is said, “As for Saul, he made havoc of the Church, entering into every house, and hauling off men and women, committing them to prison.” Indeed, not content with this, his zeal urged him to proceed further: “And Saul, still breathing out threats and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest, and desired from him letters to Damascus, to the synagogues, that if he found any of this Way, whether they were men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem.” After his conversion, he often expressed the deepest and most penitential sorrow on this subject; and it is clear that, in this, he acted in opposition to the advice of his great master, Gamaliel, Act 5.34.

Yet I apprehend that we are not entitled to regard it as a proof, either that he was naturally cruel in his disposition, or insincere in the profession of his former faith. Indeed, it is true that persecution for conscience’ sake can in no case be defended; this was afterwards acknowledged by the apostle himself. But then it ought to be remembered that the principle of toleration was not recognised in the age in which he lived, and never exemplified (whatever may be said of the “mild spirit of Paganism”),[61] where there was anything that opposed, and would not coalesce with its polytheism. We are too apt, in judging of Paul’s conduct toward the Primitive Christians, to carry with us all our modern ideas of liberality and mutual toleration; and by applying these to his case, to draw from it a very harsh and injurious reflection against his character. But it is a well-known historical fact that some of the most violent persecutors of the Church have been, in their private character, not only devoutly attached to their own religion, but tenderly affectionate to their friends. Such, for example, was Marcus Aurelius, in Ancient Rome; and Charles the First, and Sir Thomas More, in our own country. Others resembled the “devout and honourable women,” of whom we read in the Acts, that “they were stirred up, with the chief men of the city to raise persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them out of their coasts.” It was zeal, blended with deplorable ignorance, rather than any ferocious or savage disposition, which in these and similar cases led to persecution. And considering the tenderness of heart, and warmth of affection, which were subsequently manifested by the apostle of the Gentiles, I cannot help believing that it was the perfect sincerity of his attachment to the law of Moses, which prompted him to oppose what he then conceived to be an impious innovation. And it was his very zeal for what he thought to be the cause of God, which stirred him up to persecute what he no doubt believed to be a dangerous heresy.

In most cases of controversy, and especially those in which controversy ends in persecution, it will generally be found that there is at least an image of right and justice for which each party contends. And that zeal for what they conceive to be truth and justice, gives them a consciousness of sincerity, even in an unholy cause. We might find many illustrations of this remark in the controversies of modern times. But in the case before us, I think it is clear that Saul had “a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge,” — that he was ignorantly opposing the same authority which he professed to revere — that the very sincerity of his attachment to the traditions of his fathers, made him unapt to entertain the thought that, in persecuting the followers of Christ, he might be found to fight against God. For such is the account he gave of his present state of mind after his conversion, that when he was penetrated with a conviction of his guilt and deeply humbled on account of it, he could still say, “I truly thought that I ought” — a false sense of duty is clearly implied. — “to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth; and I shut up many of the saints in prison, having received authority from the chief priests. And when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I punished them often, in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme. And being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even to foreign cities.” (Act 26.9-11) And again, “I was a blasphemer before, and a persecutor, and injurious — but I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly, and in unbelief.” (1Tim 1.13)

Such seems to have been the character of Saul. And there is enough in it both to account for his opposition to the Gospel, and to show that — no less than the reckless JAILER at Philippi, nor the poor MALEFACTOR on the cross — he needed to undergo a great spiritual change before he could enter into the kingdom. His character was indeed so respectable that some (looking only at the fair exterior) may be at a loss to discover in this learned, religious, moral, and self-righteous man, anything that called for any change, other than his violent opposition to the Gospel, in persecuting its first professors. But on deeper reflection, they will find cause to believe that his vehement zeal in “breathing threats and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord,” if it did not necessarily imply a cruel and bloodthirsty disposition, it at least indicated a frame of mind that was in all respects opposed to the spiritual and benign genius of the Gospel. And also that it is to be regarded as the natural fruit, and outward manifestation, of a rancorous aversion to the truth as it is in Jesus. It showed that, in his heart, he was an enemy to Christ and his cause. And there was enough enmity in his bosom to account for his zeal in the work of persecution, and to render regeneration absolutely needful.

Learned as he was, his very learning made him look down with contempt and scorn on the illiterate fishermen who had appeared in opposition to the doctrine of the Scribes and Pharisees; — religious as he was, his very religion prompted him to oppose a system of doctrine at variance with all his preconceived opinions; — moral as he was, his very morality fostered a spirit of self-righteous confidence which rendered the humbling doctrine of the Cross utterly offensive to him; — and as patriotic as he was, his heart seems to swell when he speaks of “the Israelites, to whom pertained the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises.” His personal convictions, his national pride, and his party spirit — all combined to exasperate his hatred, and excite his contempt for those who represented Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah that had been promised to the fathers. Like most of his countrymen, he probably expected the Messiah to be a temporal prince, to deliver them from the Roman yoke, and establish a powerful monarchy in Judea. And hence, when Jesus appeared, claiming this august character, he might conceive that he was justly condemned, and that his followers might also be put to death as deceivers of the people.

In those very features of his character, then, which at first sight seem the most amiable, and the least likely to lead to such a result, we find the very strength and source of his opposition to the Gospels — just as in modern times, none are more bitter and inveterate against the doctrines of free grace and a life of spiritual religion, than those moral, decent, and self-righteous men who have a form, while they deny the power of godliness.

But I apprehend that Saul’s violent opposition to the truth is to be ascribed in no small measure to certain convictions which had been awakened in his conscience by what he had seen and heard of the Gospel, and the conduct of its professors — convictions which were not effectual to subdue, but were abundantly sufficient to stir up and exasperate his enmity. It does not appear that he had been present at the crucifixion of Christ; but he was present as an interested and active spectator at the death of Stephen, the first martyr for the truth. He had heard his sublime discourse, and looked at his countenance, when “his face seemed as it had been the face of an angel,” — and witnessed his triumphant death, when he fell asleep saying, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit;” — and, “Lord, do not lay this sin to their charge.” Such a scene must have made some impression on a mind like Paul’s; if it did not disarm and subdue, it would excite and exasperate. It might, and probably did, awaken some inward misgiving — some secret suspicion that possibly there might be truth in that Gospel which Stephen sealed with his blood; and some feeling of uneasiness, amounting even to pain. For such is often the effect of conviction awakened in the conscience of unbelieving men.

This is remarkably evinced when it is said of those who surrounded Stephen on that memorable occasion, ‘‘When they heard these things, they were cut to the heart, and gnashed at him with their teeth.” And again, of those who listened to the faithful testimony of Peter and the other apostles, “When they heard that, they were cut to the heart, and took counsel to slay them.” The arrow of conviction, where it fails to bring the sinner bleeding to Christ, saying, “What must I do to be saved?” it seldom fails to exasperate his natural enmity, so as to rouse his violent opposition to Christ and his cause. Thus, whenever we see a man breathing out violence and threats against the ministers or people of God, we are ready to think that at one time, that sinner must have had an arrow sticking fast in his conscience; and that he is uneasy, and restless, and wretched within, in consequence of its rankling and festering sore. And I think that Paul had experienced some such convictions. This appears from the language of our Lord when he said to him, “It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” It is as if he had been pricked in his heart, and as if he was goaded on to violence and bloodshed by convictions which he was determined to kick against and resist — in so far as they tended to subdue his haughty spirit to the faith and obedience of the Gospel. So too, king Saul’s persecution of David was stimulated by the secret consciousness of his own guilt, and a lurking suspicion that David was the Lord’s anointed.

II. If we now consider the circumstances which accompanied, and the means which effected his conversion, we will find that, while it was brought about in a miraculous way, it was the result of the truth which was made known to him by the vision and the voice of the Saviour. And it was carried home to his heart by a demonstration of the Spirit, and by power from on high. It is said that, “As he journeyed, he came near Damascus; and suddenly there shined around him a light from heaven. And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying to him, Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” The miraculous accompaniments of his conversion, were the shining light — a “light above the brightness of the sun” — the supernatural voice, and the sudden infliction of blindness, which was afterwards miraculously cured when “there fell from his eyes something like scales.” But while these and similar circumstances were useful as subordinate means, in the way of arresting his attention, impressing his conscience, and affording evidence for the truth, it was the truth itself — the simple truth as it is in Jesus — which effected the conversion of Paul. And in this it resembles the case of every other sinner.

That truth was presented to him in three distinct ways. —

1. It was embodied, as it were, and exhibited in the vision of Christ. And that you may understand the suitableness of this manifestation, and what a flood of light it was fitted to pour into his mind, I request you to remember that, as Saul did not at that time believe in Jesus, he must have regarded him as an impostor who had been justly condemned and put to death. And his unbelief, which had probably been founded on the extreme humiliation of Christ, when he appeared as a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” was doubtless confirmed by his death and burial, when his enemies seemed to have triumphed over him. What, then, could be better fitted to undeceive him — to convince him of his former error, and to unfold to him the glorious truth — than the personal appearance of the same Man of Sorrows, after he had been crucified, in the brightness of his resurrection glory, and in the dignity of his exaltation? The mere appearance of the Saviour in such a form, contained in it the whole Gospel: it proved as well as exhibited the truth. It showed that he had risen from the dead — that he had ascended up on high — that he had been exalted by the right hand of God. And if he was exalted, then he was what he professed to be — the Son of God, the Christ, the Messiah that had been promised to the fathers. Indeed, it proved that he had finished the work which the Father had given him to do — that his work had been accepted, and his reward earned — insomuch that now, “all power was given to him in heaven and on earth;” and from the cross he had passed to the throne! All this must have flashed at once on the mind of Saul, as soon as he was made acquainted with the person who spoke to him from amidst that shining light!

2. While the truth was embodied and exhibited in the vision of Christ, it was further explained by his VOICE. We find no formal discourse, no full exposition, no systematic statement of the truth, but a few intimations which — when combined with what he then witnessed, and what he afterwards learned — were enough to produce in his mind the truth which is unto salvation. When he asked, “Who are you, Lord? the Lord said, I am Jesus whom you persecute. It is hard for you to kick against the goads. And trembling and astonished, he said, Lord, what would you have me do? And the Lord said to him, Arise, go into the city, and it will be told you what you must do.” When the voice asked him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” he must have had some indistinct impression that it was Jesus who spoke to him. For he knew in his conscience that he was persecuting his disciples; and the miraculous vision convinced him that he was in the Divine presence, for he called him LORD. But when, in answer to his question, “Who are you?” he received that express declaration, “I am Jesus,” or as it is in the 22d chapter, “I am Jesus of Nazareth,” — oh! what deep convictions and emotions must have rushed into his soul at that instant! If Jesus was indeed alive; if he had really risen from the dead; if he had ascended into heaven; and if he now stood in his immediate presence — then Saul must have felt, with all the quickness and certainty of intuition, that in opposing the Gospel, he was fighting against God. And thus it is no wonder that he lay on the earth “trembling and astonished,” when he knew that the same Jesus who was crucified in weakness, had been raised in power, and had now come down — might it not be to judge and destroy?

There was, indeed, no word of threatening, but a pointed question, a touching expostulation — demanding the reason for his present conduct, in such a way that it must have awakened his conscience to reprove him of sin. That he felt the reproof, and was alarmed on account of his guilt and danger, appears from his “trembling.” But fear is not faith; remorse is not repentance; nor is there sufficient power in mere terror to effect the conversion of the heart. The heart is turned by the attraction of the Saviour’s love. And if, on the one hand, the words of Christ served to impress his mind with a very awful sense of his guilt — seeing that they represented his persecution of the Church as equivalent to the persecution of Christ himself — they were also fitted, on the other hand, to convey to his mind a very vivid idea of the tenderness of his compassion, and the riches of his grace. For when the Saviour said, “I am Jesus whom you persecute,” what a revelation was made of his love to his own people! Saul was not consciously persecuting Christ; he was only pursuing his poor followers; he was in quest of certain men and women at Damascus, that he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. But when Jesus met him by the way, he did not say to him, Saul, Saul, why do you persecute them — rather, Why do you persecute ME? — intimating thereby that he identifies himself with his people — that in all their affliction he is afflicted, that they were “members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones” — that if any one member suffered, the Head sympathised and suffered too, according to his own language in another place: “Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me!”

But full as it was of love for his people, this language might only have terrified the trembling persecutor, and driven him to the verge of despair, had there been no manifestation of tenderness and compassion toward himself. He might have thought, “If in pursuing these men and women, I have been persecuting Christ, the Lord of Glory, there is no hope for me.” But immediately. Jesus drops a word of kindness, which was as a cordial to his sinking spirit, His very expostulation breathes a spirit of tenderness, and shows that the persecutor had a place in the Saviour’s heart. For mark the gracious words, “It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” It is hard, not for me, whom you persecute — not for my poor followers, the men and women whom you are hauling to prison; but, “it is hard for YOU.” Oh! then, the Saviour had a sympathy even for this sinner; the Prince of Peace was concerned for this persecutor, and spoke of the hardship — the injury he was doing to himself. And how this tenderness must have touched Paul’s heart, at a time when he was self-convicted, and self-condemned — especially if, by “kicking against the goads,” he understood the Lord to mean his resisting the convictions of his own conscience, and setting himself in opposition to the truths which he had now been taught. By such means he was at once convinced of his sin and danger, and satisfied of the truth of the Gospel, and instructed in the relation which Christ bears to his people, and the compassion which Christ felt for himself. And he refers to these means afterwards as having been instrumental in God’s hand bringing him to a knowledge of the truth: “I certify to you, brethren, that the Gospel which was preached by me is not after man. For I neither received it from man, nor was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

3. While Saul was first brought to the knowledge and belief of the truth, by the vision and voice of the Saviour himself, God was pleased, even in this remarkable case, to put honour on his own ordinance, by employing the ministry of Ananias to instruct and confirm him in the faith (ver. 6) — “The Lord said to him, Arise and go into the city, and it will be told to you what you must do.”

“And there was a certain disciple, named Ananias, and the Lord said to him in a vision, Ananias! And he said, Behold, I am here, Lord. And the Lord said to him, Arise, and go into the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas for one called Saul of Tarsus. For behold, he prays, and has seen in a vision a man named Ananias coming in, and putting his hand on him, that he might receive his sight. Then Ananias answered, Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints at Jerusalem. And here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who call on your name. But the Lord said to him. Go your way: for he is a chosen vessel unto me, to bear my name before the Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel. For I will show him what great things he must suffer for my name’s sake. And Ananias went his way, and entered into the house; and putting his hands on him, said, Brother Saul, the Lord, even Jesus, who appeared to you in the way as you came, has sent me, that you might receive your sight; be filled with the Holy Ghost. And immediately there fell from Paul’s eyes something like scales. And he received sight immediately, and arose, and was baptized.” (Act 9.10-18)

The words of Ananias, and his very mission to him at such a time, must have enlarged Paul’s views, and strengthened his belief of the truth. For he had been taught to expect such a visit from one who would tell him what he ought to do. And when he came and spoke to him of Jesus who had appeared to him by the way, and wrought a miraculous cure of his blindness, and imparted to him the gift of the Holy Ghost, and addressed him as a brother, and exhorted him to “arise, and be baptized, and wash away his sins, calling on the name of the Lord,” — he could not fail to regard these events as at once a signal proof of divine interposition, and a manifest fulfilment of Christ’s promise. And what was any better fitted at once to subdue and comfort him, as so many precious tokens of the Saviour’s care and kindness for himself individually — such tokens as might well awaken the liveliest gratitude, and afford a ground of confidence and hope. For mark the minute knowledge, the personal kindness, the pastoral care of the Lord Jesus Christ. He keeps his eye on this spirit-stricken penitent as he enters into the crowded city; he marks the street; he singles out the very house in which he takes up his abode. And He comes to another disciple, whom he also names, and says, “Go, for behold he prays!”

By these means — by the vision of Christ, by the words he spoke, and by the ministry of Ananias — the truth was presented to the mind of Saul, along with its appropriate evidence. But it is of importance to observe, especially with a view to account for his being immediately employed in the work of preaching the Gospel, that as soon as he was convinced of Jesus being the Messiah, all his Old Testament knowledge became at once available. He had now obtained possession of the key which unlocks that storehouse of typical and prophetic instruction. And his precious familiarity with the writings of Moses and the prophets must have qualified him, in no ordinary degree, for understanding, and expounding, and vindicating the Gospel, as soon as he was brought to believe that “the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.”

But neither the vision nor the voice of Christ — neither the ministry of Ananias, nor Saul’s familiar acquaintance with the writings of Moses and the prophets — would have effected his conversion, without the grace of the Holy Spirit. We read that he received the Holy Ghost; and if this is to be understood of his supernatural gifts, then it is equally certain that he must have received his spiritual grace. For he himself testifies — “By the grace of God, I am what I am.” “It pleased God to reveal his Son in me.” “God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined into our hearts, giving us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

III. If we now inquire into the nature of this great change, or what it properly consisted in, and the practical results in which it terminated, we will find that Paul’s whole conversion hinged on one point — it depended on his believing that “Jesus was the Christ.” A single thought is often the key to a great discovery; and so a single event may be the occasion of a total revolution in the whole of the opinions, and feelings, and habits of a man. Thus it was with Paul. The single thought that now took possession of his mind, and threw a clear and steady light on the whole scheme of revealed truth, was that Jesus was the Christ of God. And the single event that carried home to his heart a conviction which revolutionised his whole creed, and character, and conduct, was the personal appearance of Jesus, once crucified but now exalted, as he journeyed towards Damascus. He saw Jesus — Jesus was then alive; he saw Jesus shining in light above the brightness of the sun. Jesus was then glorified, and if glorified, then his work was accepted, his Gospel true, his authority divine, his power Almighty. That one thought was enough to convert the Pharisee into a penitent, the persecutor into a preacher, the Jewish bigot into a Christian philanthropist. The change was sudden, indeed, but it was also complete. For Christ was above, and the Spirit within him. From that hour, he became “a new creature; old things passed away; all things became new.”

Oh! it is deeply instructive to mark the contrast in every point of view in which it can be contemplated, between his former and his future character. His life was now turned into a new channel, as it were. And if his change was sudden, it was also permanent. He now had new views.

— New views of himself: “I was alive without the law once: but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.” Once he was a Pharisee, believing himself to be righteous, and despising others — now he is a penitent, confessing himself to be the “chief of sinners,” and “less than the least of all saints.” Once he was built up in the fond conceit of his own worth — now he accounts it but filthy rags:

“Though I might also have confidence in the flesh. If any other man thinks that he has something of which he might trust in the flesh, I have more: circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee.”

“But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yes, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having my own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.”

— New views of God; he now saw “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

— New views of the law; he saw it now in its true character, as a ministration of death, a covenant engendering to bondage, a schoolmaster to bring him to Christ.

— New views of the Gospel, as God’s truth, — of Jesus, as God’s Christ — of his Church, as God’s people — of the Jews, and their fearful guilt — of the Gentiles, and their predicted privileges.

And his views being thus changed, his affections and aims, his pursuits and pleasures, his habits and his hopes, were all alike new — insomuch that the bigoted Jew became the universal philanthropist, exclaiming, “Is he the God of the Jews only? Is he not also of the Gentiles?” And the fierce persecutor became the fervent preacher, exclaiming, “The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but spiritual, and mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds.” And he who breathed “threats and slaughter, and was exceedingly mad against the people of God,” devoted his life to their service, taking upon himself “the care of all the churches,” “making himself all things to all men, that if possible, he might gain some;” and not moved by peril and persecution, nor “counting his life dear to himself, that he might finish his course with joy, and fulfil the ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.”

Need I dwell on the moral and spiritual fruits of his conversion? Read his matchless epistles, study the simple but sublime narrative of his life, and see how brightly, and how steadily the fire of divine love, which was first kindled in his breast on his way to Damascus, burned there, and how it continued to brighten, and to burn more strongly in the face of all defamation, and opposition, and danger, till his warfare was ended, and his soul was joined to the kindred society of seraphic spirits in the sanctuary above.

And let those especially, who declaim against conversion as a fanatical or enthusiastic dream, and suspect it even more if it is suddenly wrought, behold in the life of Paul, the reality and the practical fruits of this great change. For the new life which he led, flowed from his new birth on the way to Damascus. This was the fountain — that was the pure and fertilizing stream. His conduct, indeed, had been decent and regular, and in many respects exemplary before. But still his life was changed as well as his heart; it was regulated by new principles, and conversant with other objects, and devoted to higher and better ends — insomuch that now he could say, “The life which I live in the flesh, I live by the faith of Christ, who loved me, and gave himself for me.”

Many practical lessons might be deduced from this case — such as these:

1. A man may be learned, decent, and exemplary in many things, and yet be destitute of spiritual life, so as to require (no less than the irreligious and immoral) being converted and renewed.

2. A form of godliness, where its power is absent, is a grievous snare to the soul.

3. A zeal for God may exist which is not according to knowledge; and a man may be sincere in following a course which is leading him down to the chambers of death.

4. Ignorance of the Gospel, combined with the form of religion and a decent moral life, is often observed to issue in inveterate opposition to Christ and his cause, especially where the conscience is weary and restless because of its unappeased convictions.

5. The one truth that “Jesus is the Christ,” is sufficient, when it is really believed, to at once lay a solid ground of hope for the sinner, and to change him into a new man.

6. Faith works by love, so as to constrain the believer to no longer live to himself, but to Him who died for him and rose again; and it prompts him to make known to others the truth which has brought peace and comfort to his own soul.

7. The conversion of Paul is a striking evidence, and the life of Paul is a striking illustration, of the power of truth.[62]

CHAPTER 4. The Ethiopian Treasurer.

Acts 8.26-40.

The case of the Ethiopian Treasurer affords a beautiful example of the way in which an ignorant, but sincere and devout inquirer, is often led — under the guidance of the Spirit of God, and notwithstanding many unfavorable circumstances in his condition — to a clear and saving knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. It belongs to a different class of cases from that to which the Philippian Jailer, the Dying Malefactor, and Saul the Persecutor, are to be referred. For these memorable characters, while they differed from each other in many respects, agreed in this: that each of the three was chargeable with some specific crime of a very aggravated nature — the Jailer with intentional suicide, the Malefactor with robbery, and Saul with persecution and bloodshed — while nothing is recorded of the Ethiopian that is criminal, and much that is creditable to his character. His main defect was his ignorance of divine truth; and even that, he was devoutly seeking to remove. His experience, therefore, is fitted to illustrate the case of those who have long been seeking the truth, but are still “walking in darkness and have no light.” And [the truth] cannot fail, when rightly understood and duly considered, to impart to them a very large measure both of instruction and encouragement.

I. In his previous state, there were many unfavourable circumstances which might seem to render his conversion a very difficult undertaking; while at the same time, there were some very hopeful symptoms. Among the unfavourable circumstances which might seem to present an obstacle to his conversion, and which probably retarded his progress in acquiring a knowledge of the truth, I may mention: — his birth and residence in Ethiopia, a land of heathen darkness. It was at a great distance from Jerusalem, the seat of the true religion, probably not less than one thousand miles; — his worldly wealth, which is often a snare to the soul, for “how hard it is,” says our Lord himself, “for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God;” and again, “I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” For not only the cares of the world, but also the deceitfulness of riches, and other lusts, choke the Word and render it unfruitful; and — his elevated rank and extensive influence, as “a eunuch of great authority under Candace, queen of the Ethiopians.” He belonged to a class of men who exercised almost unlimited power in some of the Eastern nations, and who were notoriously addicted to intrigue and the other arts of courtly ambition. And this might be a bar in the way of his spiritual progress. For —

“you see your calling, brethren, how not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called; but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, and God has chosen the base things of the world, and things which are despised; yes, and things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in his presence.”

It is manifest that these, or some other circumstances of a like nature in his condition, had exerted an injurious influence over him, and had retarded his progress in the acquisition of religious knowledge. For he was, as we immediately see, lamentably ignorant, notwithstanding all the efforts he had made. And looking at him, as he returned in his chariot to his native land, we might be ready, in a spirit of hopelessness, to exclaim, “Can this Ethiopian change his skin?”

But. while many circumstances in his outward condition were unfavourable, we cannot read the narrative without discovering some hopeful symptoms in the state of his mind. For while he was by birth and residence an Ethiopian Gentile, he was notwithstanding, both in his creed and in his profession, a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and a believer in the one only, the Living and the True God. Although surrounded by the forms of polytheistic superstition, and living in a land of gross spiritual darkness, he had in some way (not described) become acquainted with the revelation of divine truth in the Old Testament Scriptures, and his eye had been opened to discern the true light, so far as to satisfy him that it was the light of heaven. This much is implied in the fact that “he had come to Jerusalem to worship,” and that on his return, he was engaged in reading the Old Testament Scriptures. And his instance affords an example and proof of a very delightful truth — I mean the extensive influence which was exerted by the Jewish dispensation on the surrounding nations.[63] While it was in some respects limited and local, as being specially designed for the children of Israel, and established in the land of Judea, it was nevertheless fitted to instruct other nations in the grand principles of religious truth. And all the great nations of antiquity were successively brought into such near contact and such familiar intercourse with the Jews, that it could not fail to impart to many a thinking mind among them, the knowledge of the one living and true God. In the earlier part of their history, the Jews were connected with the Egyptians, who were the wisest, the Canaanites, who were the most warlike, and the Phoenicians, the most commercial of these nations. And at a later period, partly by their long captivity, partly by their dispersion and their residence in almost every city, they were intermingled with the Assyrians, the Persians, the Greeks, and the Romans. Not only was the Old Testament translated into Greek for the use of the Hellenic Jews, but heathenism itself derived from it many useful hints, as well as the materials of many a fable, as is clear in the case of Zoroaster and others.

And as the Old Testament dispensation was fitted to exert such an influence over the surrounding nations, so provision was made for the admission of proselytes to at least some of the privileges and services of the Jewish Church. These proselytes have been divided into two classes, called respectively the proselytes of righteousness and the proselytes of the gate. And these, as well as the Jews who were scattered abroad, were in the habit of coming up to Jerusalem at the stated festivals. It is said of them that on the day of Pentecost, which occurred after the crucifixion of the Saviour, there were then assembled, “Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, and in Judea, and Cappadocia, in Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, in Egypt and in the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, Jews and proselytes, Cretes, and Arabians,” speaking different languages but worshipping the same God. The Ethiopian Treasurer was one of these. And his coming out of Ethiopia, and repairing to Jerusalem, was a virtual declaration that his mind could not rest in the popular mythology of his own country — that he saw the error of polytheism, and admitted the cardinal principle of the divine unity, and this was in itself a solemn and public testimony to the supremacy of the God of Israel.

He was both by conviction and profession, a believer in the one only, the living and the true God, and a proselyte to the Jewish faith. He was also a devout worshipper, and an attendant at the services of the Jewish Church. It is said of him that “he had come to Jerusalem to worship” — not merely to inquire, and still less to speculate or dispute — but to engage in the solemn exercises of public religious worship at one of the greatest festivals of the Jewish Church. It is important to mark this, for it shows that he was already imbued with a spirit of prayer, a hopeful symptom in any case, and one of the first in all the others — for Jesus said of Paul to Ananias, “Behold, he prays;” — and of Lydia, that “she attended the apostle’s ministry by the waterside, where prayer was usually to be made;” — and of Cornelius, that “as he prayed at the ninth hour, the angel of the Lord appeared to him.” True prayer is never lost. The cry of an earnest spirit comes to God in his holy temple, and in due time it will bring down an answer in peace. But “whoever comes to God must believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of those who diligently seek him.”

And what encouragement did this Ethiopian then have to pray, or what was the ground and warrant of his-faith? He was not a Jew by birth — he was “an alien from the commonwealth of Israel, and a stranger to the covenants of promise;” — he had no natural or civil connection with those “to whom” (and as they themselves supposed, to them alone) pertained the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises.” He was a foreigner, an African, a negro, a Gentile, a Eunuch — how then could he hope to associate himself with the people of God, and dare to approach His temple? Oh, mark how a simple faith, and a devout spirit, and an earnest mind, will surmount a thousand difficulties, and bring a sinner into the way of peace. He had a warrant for his faith and hope — a warrant in the Old Testament Scriptures, which was enough to embolden him to draw near.

For, besides the prayer which was uttered at the dedication of Solomon’s Temple, in the very book of the Prophet Isaiah (56.3-7) which he read in his chariot, he found this precious word of promise:

“Do not let the son of the stranger, who has joined himself to the Lord, speak, saying. The Lord has utterly separated me from his people; nor let the eunuch say, Behold, I am a dry tree. For thus says the Lord to the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, and choose the things that please me, and take hold of my covenant; even to them I will give, in my house and within my walls, a place and a name better than that of sons and daughters. I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off. Also the sons of the stranger, who join themselves to the Lord, to serve him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be his servants — everyone who keeps from polluting the Sabbath, and takes hold of my covenant — even them I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer. Their burnt-offerings and their sacrifices shall be accepted upon my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all people.”

This man was both a eunuch and a stranger. And being such, he knew that this promise comprehended him; and in the faith of it, he came to Jerusalem, and worshipped the God of Israel there.

Besides a spirit of prayer, he had also a spirit of diligent inquiry, combined with that humility and teachableness which may justly be regarded as the most hopeful symptoms of a great and blessed change. It appears that he had an inquiring and docile mind, from his going up from Ethiopia to Jerusalem. It was a distance of about a thousand miles, passing from Africa to Asia, and leaving for a time the cares of his honourable and responsible office, that he might be present at the Feast of Pentecost. But it is still more striking from the manner in which he was occupied on his return from Jerusalem. Instead of casting aside his religion when the festival was over, or allowing his mind to be diverted to other objects, “he sat in his chariot reading the prophet Isaiah.” Probably he read aloud, for the benefit of his attendants. At all events, he had his Bible in his hand, and was engaged in reading its sacred contents. So that, he had procured a copy of the Scriptures for his own use — a roll which must have been written by himself, or obtained at great expense — and which he carried with him as his companion on the way. But even this is not so remarkable, as the humility and teachableness with which he received Philip, a stranger, and one who perhaps was neither in point of dress, nor manners, likely to attract the regard of a man of rank and station. Yet, when Philip joined him at the chariot, and ventured to ask the question, “Do you understand what you read?” instead of spurning the question, he replied with child-like humility, “How can I, unless some man should guide me.” And he requested Philip to “come up and sit with him.”

While there were several hopeful symptoms in this state of mind, it is manifest that he was still extremely ignorant of the truth. He was not only destitute of all knowledge of Christ and the Gospel, but he had no correct apprehension of the spiritual meaning of the Old Testament in which he professed to believe, and which he still continued to read in the midst of much remaining darkness. For when, after reading part of the 53d chapter of Isaiah, he put the question, “I pray you, of whom does the prophet say this? of himself, or of some other man?” — his language, if it indicates a spirit of sincere inquiry, it also betrays a lamentable degree of ignorance, and makes it manifest that he was still in a condition like that of the Jews themselves. It is said of them by the apostle, “Their minds were blinded. For until this day, the same veil remains untaken away in the reading of the Old Testament, which veil is done away in Christ. But even to this day, when Moses is read, the veil is upon their heart.” His language seems to indicate that the eunuch had no acquaintance with the spiritual import of the Old Testament; and that if he was attached to the Jewish faith, he adhered to it chiefly as a sublime system of religion which taught his duty to the one living and true God, but without any intelligent apprehension of its connection with the scheme of grace and redemption, nor the work of Messiah who had been promised to the fathers.

II. If we now consider the manner in which he was brought to a saving knowledge of the truth, we will find an interesting and encouraging example of the care with which God provides for the instruction of a sincere inquirer, even if he is placed in apparently the most unpromising circumstances. The Ethiopian had just been at Jerusalem — where the mighty moral movement had already begun which was destined to revolutionize the world. He had been at Jerusalem, where Immanuel, God manifest in the flesh, had preached, and suffered, and died, and risen again from the dead. And he had been at Jerusalem at the Feast of Pentecost, when the promise of the Father was fulfilled by the descent of the Holy Spirit in the miraculous gift of tongues, and three thousand souls were converted in a single day. It cannot be supposed that a stranger of rank and influence — possessing as he no doubt did, many facilities of intercourse with the leading men at Jerusalem — could fail to hear during his sojourn in that city, the numerous reports about Jesus which were then circulating in the country, and especially in the capitol of Judea. It is evident, however, from the narrative before us, that he had left Jerusalem without acquiring a knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. He had been in the holy city where Christ himself had ministered, and where his apostles were now proclaiming the Gospel of the kingdom. And this man had left it, perhaps forever, and now he was on his way back to that land of spiritual darkness, where he could have no reasonable prospect of enjoying such opportunities of grace as Jerusalem afforded. But God himself had given him a spirit of inquiry, and a spirit of prayer. And although his journey to Jerusalem had not led him to find what he was seeking, God (whose ways are not as man’s ways) sent it to him in the midst of a desert, when his back was turned on Jerusalem, and he was returning to a land of darkness. God met him in the desert of Gaza, and he was converted there!

There is much in the narrative that is fitted to impress our minds with a sense of the lively interest and the tender solicitude with which God regards and provides for the instruction of a single soul.

First of all, there is the ministry of an ANGEL — “The angel of the Lord spoke to Philip,’’ — “For there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repents;” “And are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister to those who are the heirs of salvation.”

Second, there is the ministry of an EVANGELIST — speedily commissioned to attend to this individual. And it is very remarkable, as evincing God’s watchful solicitude for a single soul, that Philip was commanded to leave his work at Jerusalem and in the villages of Samaria, and go to the desert at a time when multitudes were attending his ministry, and when his labours there appeared to be remarkably blessed. For it is said, “Then Philip went down to the city of Samaria, and preached Christ to them. And the people with one accord gave heed to those things which Philip spoke, hearing and seeing the miracles which he did; and there was great joy in that city.” And afterwards ‘‘They returned to Jerusalem, and preached the Gospel in many cities of the Samaritans.” Yet, for the sake of one humble inquirer who had come to Jerusalem to worship, and was returning through the desert to a land of darkness — who was but reading his Bible by the way — an angel was sent from heaven; and Philip was taken away from the crowd who listened to him at Jerusalem and Samaria, that he might minister the Word of life to one benighted soul!

And lastly, the SPIRIT OF GOD was there — in that dreary desert — watching over this prayerful man — even that blessed Spirit who “leads the blind by a way they do not know, and makes darkness light before them, and crooked things straight.” The Spirit directed Philip — “Go near, and join this chariot.” The Spirit enabled him to speak a word in season; — and the Spirit gave the hearing ear and the understanding heart. And then, when the work was done, he withdrew the human agent to follow his Master’s service in another place. Such was the agency employed for the instruction of the Ethiopian eunuch. And can we consider it in connection with the circumstances which have been described, without regarding it as a very affecting proof of the solicitude with which God cares for every inquiring soul, and a most encouraging fufilment of God’s promise — “Then you will know, if you follow on to know the Lord.” (Hos 6.3)

But while the ministry of both an angel and an evangelist, and the agency of the Holy Spirit, are expressly declared to have been employed on this occasion, you will observe that the means by which his conversion was effected was simply the truth as it is in Jesus. And in this it resembles the conversion of every other sinner. Having mentioned that the place in the Scripture which he read was the 53d chapter of Isaiah, the narrative adds (ver. 35), “Then Philip opened his mouth and began at the same Scripture, and preached Jesus to him.” It would be easy to show, by an analysis of that chapter, that it afforded ample materials for a full exposition of the Gospel. For it is an eminent prediction of Christ — a prediction so full indeed, and yet so minute and circumstantial, that the enemies of our faith have declared that it must be regarded as a history rather than as a prophecy. It predicts almost every fact, and sets forth every doctrine connected with the person, the offices, and the work of Christ, such as — the unbelief of the Jews, ver. 1; the reason for that unbelief, ver. 2; the sufferings and rejection of Christ, ver. 3; the cause of his sufferings, ver. 4-6; the patience of the Sufferer, ver. 7; the condemnation and death of Christ, ver. 8; his burial, ver. 9; his resurrection, ver. 10; his reward, ver. 11; and the reason for his reward in connection with the end of his death, ver. 12. All this was predicted by the prophet; and the apostle could tell how minutely it was fulfilled in the person and history of Jesus.

III. In regard to the nature of the change which was then wrought on the Ethiopian, and the practical results which flowed from it, I apprehend that it properly consisted in his believing that “Jesus is the Christ,” — in so believing this, he received and embraced him in all the fulness of his offices as the Lord’s Anointed. For, on asking to be baptized — a request which plainly implies that he had been instructed in the nature and emblematic meaning of that sacred rite, and also felt that he needed to “wash away his sins” — Philip said, “If you believe with all your heart, you may;” and he answered and said, “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” This confession of faith, short and simple as it is, contains the sum and substance of all Gospel truth.

The immediate effect of his faith was a request that he might be baptized; and his baptism is at once a manifestation of his faith, and also a proof of his new obedience and submission to the authority of Christ. He was not ashamed to own, by this visible act, his attachment to Christ and the Gospel. Being baptized, “he went on his way rejoicing,” — he felt that the Gospel was glad tidings of great joy. From the instant when he believed it, it became the joy and the rejoicing of his heart. And doubtless, “the joy of the Lord was his strength,” fitting him for the right discharge of every commanded duty, and the patient endurance of every appointed trial — so that he “could run in the way of his commandments, when God had enlarged his heart.”

We learn from this interesting narrative, that God is no respecter of persons, but that men of every nation, and colour, and clime, may become partakers of his grace; — that a long preparatory work often precedes a sinner’s conversion; — that a conscientious and prayerful spirit is a hopeful symptom; — that this may exist where as yet there is little light; — that a sinner’s circumstances, however unfavourable, are no bar to his progress, if only he seeks and obtains the direction and blessing of God; — that “the truth as it is in Jesus” (Eph 4.21) is the simple means of conversion; — that the Gospel is glad tidings; and no sooner is it believed, than the sinner may “go on his way rejoicing,” — for it is capable of imparting immediate peace and joy in believing; — that abundance of privileges may fail in working that change which may be brought about in more unfavourable circumstances (for the Ethiopian left Jerusalem unconverted, and was converted in a desert); — that a diligent attention to the means of grace, accompanied with prayer, will sooner or later be crowned with a blessing; and yet — that an inquiring, prayerful, and exemplary man may need to undergo a great spiritual change.

CHAPTER 5. Cornelius.

Acts 10.

At the period of our Lord’s advent, there existed among the Jews the same diversities of opinion and character as are found among ourselves at the present day; and the men to whom he preached were in very different states of preparation for the Gospel of the kingdom. There were Sadducees then, as there are sceptics now, who doubted or disbelieved the truth as it had been revealed by Moses and the prophets. There were Pharisees then, as there are formalists now, who rested in the form, while they deny the power of godliness; there were Pilates who asked, “What is truth?” and Gallios, who “cared for none of these things;” (Act 18.12-17)

But there were also not a few whose hearts the Lord had touched, and who waited in faith and hope for “the consolation of Israel.” There were such men both among the Jews and Gentiles. Among the Jews we read of Zacharias and his wife Elizabeth, “who were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless;” — and Mary, the mother of Jesus, whose song breathes of the spirit of genuine piety, when she exclaimed, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Saviour;’’ — and Simeon, of whom it is said that “the same man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel: and the Holy Ghost was upon him;” — and Anna the prophetess, “a widow of about four score and four years, who did not depart from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day, and spoke of Christ to all those who looked for redemption in Jerusalem;” — and Nathaniel, of whom our Lord himself said, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile!” And among the Gentiles, we read of the Ethiopian who came up to Jerusalem to worship, and on his return read in his chariot the Book of Isaiah the prophet; — and CORNELIUS, a Roman centurion and a devout soldier who waited upon him; a devout man, and one who feared God with all his house, who gave alms generously to the people, and prayed to God always.”

In these cases we have a most precious exemplification of the spiritual life which still existed in the bosom of the Jewish Church, and of the blessed fruits which had sprung from the faith of the Old Testament. And it is delightful to discover such instances of genuine piety in the retired walks of private life, at a time when their national character had been sadly deteriorated — and the scribes, rulers, and Pharisees had made the commandment of God of no effect by their traditions. There was still among them a blessed remnant — a peculiar people, who cherished the faith, and walked in the footsteps of faithful Abraham. And it is deeply interesting to mark that, as they were prepared, on the one hand, by their spiritual acquaintance with the truth as it had been revealed in the Old Testament, and for the reception of any other revelation which God might be pleased to make — so God was pleased to manifest the utmost care for them, and to give them the earliest and best opportunities to acquire a knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. Thereby He fulfilled the law of his spiritual administration: “To him who has, shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly; while from him who does not have, what he seems to have shall be taken away.”

We have a very remarkable instance of this in the narrative which relates to the experience of Cornelius at the time when he was made acquainted with the full truth of the Gospel. A change was wrought upon him which, I think, cannot be considered a case of conversion; for he was already a devout believer — but as a case of advancement, or translation from the lower form of the Jewish faith, to the higher form of the Christian faith, but still in the same school and under the same teacher. This will become apparent, if we consider,

I. His state and character previous to the time when this change occurred. He was by birth a Gentile — by profession a soldier. But notwithstanding the disadvantages to which he was thus subjected, he had become a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and believed in and worshipped “the one only, the living and true God.” His character is thus described: “A devout man, and one who feared God with all his house, who gave alms generously to the people, and prayed to God always;” and again, “A just man. and one who fears God, and of good report among all the nation of the Jews.” I need not dwell on the proof which these words afford of his being a believer in the Jewish religion, and a worshipper of the true God. Suffice it to say that such language is never applied in Scripture to any idolater or heathen. And that his was not a mere natural religion, appears from its being incidentally mentioned that “at the ninth hour of the day (3 P.M.), he was praying in his house.” This was the hour of evening sacrifice among the Jews, when those who were not present at the temple prayed at home, as we read, “Peter and John went up together into the temple, at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour.” And as he conformed to the Jewish worship, so it is evident that his prayers were addressed to the God of Israel — and not only so, but that they were accepted from him, for the angel said to him, “your prayers and yours alms have come up for a memorial before God.” From this we infer that he must have been a genuine believer, and a justified man, since “without faith it is impossible to please God; for he that comes to God, must believe that He is, and that he is the rewarder of those who diligently seek him.”

He was acquainted, then, with God’s revealed truth, as it had been made known by Moses and the prophets. And he had embraced it with a lively faith which led him to fast and pray, and to care for the religious instruction of his family. And loving God, he loved his neighbour also, for he “gave alms generously to the people. Indeed, it would seem that he was not altogether ignorant of the Gospel itself, although he had not been fully instructed or firmly established in the belief of its truth. For when Peter came to him, he said, “The word which God sent to the children of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ (he is Lord of all): that word you know, which was published throughout all Judea, and began from Galilee, after the baptism which John preached.” We are to consider him, I apprehend, as a Gentile proselyte to the Jewish faith, who without submitting to the rite of circumcision — for we learn from the objection to Peter’s conduct, that he was uncircumcised, which was afterwards founded on this consideration (Act 11.3) — nevertheless embraced the faith of the Jewish Church, and worshipped the God of Israel. He was doubtless encouraged by the gracious provision which had been made for the admission of foreigners to participate in its privileges (1Kng 8.41; Isa 56.6).

And as a devout and conscientious man, he acted up to the light he had, and waited for more — listening to the reports which had reached him of the miracles and preaching of Jesus, but without having arrived yet at a clear apprehension or certain belief of the Gospel. And on the whole, he may be regarded as a believer, in the same sense in which Abraham was a believer, or the cloud of witnesses mentioned in the 11th chapter of Hebrews, who “all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.’’ And being a believer, he was justified and accepted, as they were, by faith in God’s covenant promise; even as many were who, like himself, were not Jews, but sinners among the Gentiles. For there was a promise before the law was given, even the first promise, that the seed of the woman “shall bruise the serpent’s head.” And that promise, with the accompanying rite of sacrifice which prefigured “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world,” afforded a sufficient object of faith, and a solid ground of hope, to many who had no natural connection with Abraham and his family. By this faith Melchizedek was justified; and Jethro the father-in-law of Moses; and Rahab before she had any interest in Israel — indeed, Abraham himself, before he was circumcised. For the apostle says,

“Faith was reckoned to Abraham for righteousness. How then was it reckoned? When he was in circumcision, or in uncircumcision? Not in circumcision, but in uncircumcision. And he received the sign of circumcision, a seal of the righteousness of the faith which he had while yet uncircumcised, that he might be the father of all those who believe, though they are not circumcised, that righteousness might be imputed to them also; and the father of circumcision to those who are not of the circumcision only, but who also walk in the steps of that faith of our father Abraham, which he had while yet uncircumcised.” (Rom 4.9-12)

Such seems to have been the state of Cornelius previous to the events which are recorded in the chapter before us. But here a question may arise: If he was already a believer and a justified man, what necessity existed for any change such as described here, and especially for the employment of an agency so various and so extraordinary that it is said to have been put in motion for his instruction and improvement? Some have supposed that had he died in his present state, he must have perished.[64] This is founded mainly on an expression which occurs in the following chapter, where Peter, repeating what had occurred, represents the angel as having said to Cornelius, “Send men to Joppa, and call for Simon, whose surname is Peter, who will tell you words by which you and all your house shall be saved.” Hence it has been inferred that he had not yet acquired a saving knowledge of divine truth, nor entered on a state of acceptance with God. But I apprehend the expression allows being understood in a sense which does not necessarily imply what is thus ascribed to it; while the whole description which is given of his character seems very plainly to imply the reverse. [65]

We believe the centurion was at that time, in a state of transition from the Jewish to the Christian faith. And the change which now occurred in his views ought to be regarded as his advancement from an imperfect to a more perfect state, rather than as his first conversion to God. He underwent precisely the same change which was wrought on all the devout Jews who “looked for redemption in Jerusalem,” and “waited for the consolation of Israel,” when having long suspected the promised Messiah, they were led to believe that Jesus was he. The subject of their faith as Jews, was that God would send a deliverer — and that “Jesus was the Christ,” became the subject of their faith as Christians. Before he knew Christ, and while still under the influence of prejudice, Nathaniel was saying, “Can any good thing come out of Galilee?” He was “an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile.” But when Jesus spoke to him, and convinced him of his omniscient knowledge by a few simple words, he believed and exclaimed, “Rabbi! you are the son of God; you are the king of Israel.” Just such was the change which was wrought on Cornelius, the devout Gentile believer. And it was needful that such a change should be effected, for two reasons — one of which was personal to himself, the other of a more public nature.

It was necessary for HIMSELF, that he should now believe the truth as it is in Jesus. It was no longer true that God would send a deliverer — the Deliverer had already come. And from the time of his advent, it became necessary to believe and acknowledge that “Jesus is the Christ.” Had he died before Christ’s advent, or even after his advent, but before he had sufficient information on the subject, he might have been saved as Abraham was, and all the faithful children of Abraham were, by the faith of what God had promised to the fathers. But had he rejected Christ, or refused to believe in him, when he had been fully informed of all that he did and taught, his unbelief would have been fatal, not only because it rejected the Saviour, but also because it indicated the absence of that Spirit of faith in the true meaning of the Old Testament itself. Wherever this existed, it was invariably found to embrace the Gospel when it was first proclaimed. There was an affinity between the faith of a spiritual Jew or proselyte, and the faith of the New Testament. In virtue of which, the one led to the other, and found in it, not a new creed, but the completion — the perfecting of the old one.

But the events which are recorded in this chapter were not designed exclusively, nor perhaps chiefly, for the personal benefit of Cornelius and his family. They were designed to subserve an end of the highest importance, and of a public nature, with reference to the Church at large — to make it manifest that the “middle wall of partition” which had long divided the Jews from the Gentiles, had been taken down — that in Christ “There is neither Jew nor Greek, circumcision nor uncircumcision, bond nor free, but Christ is all and in all;” — and that the Christian church was to be truly Catholic, as comprehensive of all nations and peoples and tongues. The Gentiles were admitted on an equal footing with the Jews to participate in its holiest privileges, and share in its highest hopes.

II. This leads me to consider the circumstances which accompanied, and the means which effected the change in the centurion’s views and profession — when from being a Jewish proselyte, he became a Christian convert. In the accompanying circumstances, many of which were miraculous, we have a beautiful example of the concurrence of various means towards the accomplishment of one end, that affords a most interesting illustration of the working of God’s providence. For one day at Caesarea, about 75 miles from Jerusalem, a vision appeared to Cornelius, instructing him to send messengers to Joppa, and to call for one Simon, whose surname was Peter. Next day, while the messengers were on their way, Peter went up to the housetop to pray, about the sixth hour, and he had the vision, as it were, of a great sheet descending from heaven, and containing all manner of beasts, accompanied with the command, “Arise, Peter, kill and eat;” and when he objected, saying, “Not so, Lord, for I have never eaten anything common or unclean,” the voice answered, “What God has cleansed, do not call common.” This was done three times, and the vessel was received up again into heaven. While Peter doubted in himself what this vision meant, the messengers arrived, and furnished, unconsciously, a key for its explanation. For their words seem immediately to have suggested to his mind the true meaning of the vision, as appears from his language when he said to Cornelius and his friends, “You know how it is an unlawful thing for a man who is a Jew to keep company, or come to one of another nation. But God has shown me that I should not call any man common or unclean.” And when, after he declared the Gospel, “the Holy Ghost fell on all those who heard the word,” so that “they began to speak with tongues and magnify God,” the whole purpose of God in this series of visions was made clear — even that the Gentiles should be admitted, as well as the Jews, to the privileges and hopes of the Christian Church.

All this was implied in the vision of the sheet which descended from heaven and contained all manner of four-footed beasts — for the distinction between clean and unclean animals had been purposely adopted as a mark of separation between the Jews and the Gentiles, as we learn from the law of Moses:

“I am the Lord your God, who has separated you from all other people. You shall therefore distinguish between clean beasts and unclean, and between unclean fowls and clean. And you shall not make your souls abominable by beast, or by fowl, or by any manner of living thing that creeps on the ground, which I have separated from you as unclean. And you shall be holy unto me: for I the Lord am holy, and have severed you from other people, that you should be mine.”

So long as the distinction subsisted between the clean and the unclean beasts and fowls, a wall of partition interposed to divide and separate the Gentile from the Jew. But when the sheet descended, containing all manner of beasts, and creeping things, and fowls, and Peter was commanded to kill and eat — and when, in answer to his objection that “he had never eaten anything common or unclean,” he was told, “What God has cleansed, do not call common,” — he was thereby significantly informed, not merely that the distinction of meats should now cease, but that the Old Testament dispensation was passing away; and that the separation between Jew and Gentile which that distinction marked and tended to perpetrate, was now to be completely and forever abolished. And this great lesson was taught by a series of successive events, all distinct and independent of each other, but concurring by a most marvellous coincidence to the accomplishment of the same end — insomuch, that this apostle’s mind must have been as impressed by the leadings of God’s providence, as by the express declaration of His will, with the belief of the great catholic truth that the Christian Church was to comprehend both Jew and Gentile; and that they were all “one in Christ.’’

While these circumstances accompanied by, and were subservient to the change which was wrought on his views and sentiments, the means by which it was properly effected was the TRUTH, declared by the apostles and applied by the Holy Spirit. The message which Peter delivered was, in all respects, suitable to his case. It contained the following:

(1.) An unequivocal recognition of Cornelius, and other believing Gentiles, as belonging to the Church of God, and accepted by Him. “Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth, I perceive that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, whoever fears Him and works righteousness, is accepted by Him.” In these words the apostle clearly intimates the delightful truth that the Church of God is catholic, and comprehends all believers, of whatever country, colour, or clime — a truth which the Jews and the apostles themselves were slow to entertain, and which probably had first been carried home to the mind of Peter by the memorable incidents recorded in the chapter before us. Peter was employed on that occasion, and he was the appointed agent in effecting a great change in the constitution of the Church, by the admission of Gentiles to the privilege of baptism. So that when our Lord said, “You are Peter, and on this rock will I build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against her,” — if these words were considered as having some reference to the person, as well as to the confession of that apostle, we would find a sufficient fulfilment of the prediction, in the fact that Peter was actually employed to found the CATHOLIC Church. And thus he had a distinguished pre-eminence, although he could claim no primacy over the rest of the apostles. But however this may be, it is clear that Peter now understood and declared the great truth that the middle wall of partition between Jews and Gentiles was removed; and that “in every nation, whoever fears God, and works righteousness, is accepted by Him.”

However, his words on this memorable occasion have been grievously perverted; and several false inferences have been drawn from them. Some, considering Cornelius as a Gentile, and founded on his declared acceptance by God, they have inferred the sufficiency of mere natural religion,[66] and the indifference or non-importance of all varieties of creeds, provided only that those who profess them be sincere. This monstrous heresy, which prevails so extensively in the world, has sometimes been presented to the public mind with the fascinations of poetry — as when it is said,

“for forms of faith let senseless bigots fight,

His faith cannot be wrong whose life is in the right.” —

This grievous error is utterly repudiated by every Christian mind which really believes the truth, and appreciates the value of the Gospel. The Church of England does not hesitate to say in her Articles, that “they are to be held accursed who presumed to say that every man shall be saved by the law or sect which he professes, so long as he is diligent to frame his life according to that law, and the light of nature.” And most assuredly, the sentiment which is so pointedly denounced here, derives no support or countenance from the case of Cornelius. For the religion of Cornelius was not derived solely, nor even chiefly, from the volume of Nature. It was drawn from the revelation of God’s truth in the Old Testament Scriptures, with which he had become acquainted during his residence in Palestine, and which had already converted him from the Gentile to the Jewish faith. And so far from representing the knowledge and belief of the truth as a matter of indifference, the narrative shows what solicitude and care God provided for the further instruction of Cornelius, with a view to his advancement, when he granted a series of supernatural visions, and employed the ministry of Peter, and granted the gift of the Holy Ghost, in order that the Jewish proselyte might become a Christian convert — a baptized professor of the Gospel.

Therefore, when the apostle said, “Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, whoever fears Him, and works righteousness, is accepted by Him,” he did not mean to intimate that the privileges of salvation were extended indiscriminately to all men, without reference to their religious creed — as if they might be safe under any form of natural religion, while they were ignorant of the Gospel. He simply meant that these privileges, and the knowledge and faith with which they are inseparably connected, were not confined to the nation of the Jews, but extended to true converts from every nation under heaven.

Still less does the narrative afford any countenance to another erroneous opinion which it has sometimes been employed to support — the opinion that a moral life will render a man acceptable to God, independently of religion; and that it matters little whether he is religious or not, provided only that his conduct be decent and exemplary. For whatever virtues are ascribed here to Cornelius — his justice, his charity, and his social respectability — were the fruits of religious principle, and inseparably combined with the fear of God, and the faith of divine truth, and the habit of prayer. So that, those men of mere morality, who from taste or education, or the influence of worldly prudence, or the example of others, maintain a decent exterior while they are utterly irreligious, and live without prayer and without God in the world, cannot justly found any hope of acceptance on the case of Cornelius, just because it is said that he was a devout, or godly man, “and one who feared God with all his house, and gave alms generously to the people, and prayed to God always.”

Nor does this narrative afford any countenance to the legal or self-righteous doctrine which represents the graces and virtues of a man’s character as the ground of his acceptance with God. It is true that the angel refers to the devotion, and the alms, and the prayers of Cornelius, and declares that “they had come up for a memorial before God,” — just as we learn that, at the last day, the Judge will refer to the conduct of his believing people in feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked, as the proper fruit and evidence of their faith and love. But the sole ground of their acceptance is the redemption of Christ. And surely no one can imagine that the good qualities which are here ascribed to Cornelius, were the meritorious cause of his salvation, when Peter was sent to speak to him as a sinner, and to tell him that, “through Christ’s name, whoever believes in him shall receive remission of sins.” The prayers and the alms of Cornelius are not referred to as being the grounds of his pardon — for that rested solely on the redemption of Christ — but they are the evidences of his faith in the promise of a Saviour; a faith which God graciously rewarded by making known to him the fulfilment of that promise in the person of Christ.

(2.) The message of Peter, while it contained an unequivocal recognition of Cornelius, and other Gentile believers, as belonging to the Church of God, also presented to his mind a summary of Gospel truth, accompanied with its appropriate evidence, with the view of convincing him that, “what God had promised to the fathers,” he had fulfilled in the person of Christ. The Gospel properly consists in the doctrine of Christ, in his person, offices, work, and reward. And all these points of Gospel truth are presented in the short but comprehensive statement of the apostle. He intimates:

- the personal dignity of Christ — “He is Lord of all;”

- his humiliation — as “Jesus of Nazareth;”

- his divine mission — for “God sent the Word to the children of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ;”

- his divine unction with the Holy Ghost, whereby he became the Christ, the Lord’s Anointed — for “God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost, and with power;”

- his holy life, and beneficent ministry — “Who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him;”

- his miraculous power — “For we are witnesses of all things which he did, both in the land of the Jews and in Jerusalem;”

- his ignominious and painful death — “Whom they slew, and hanged on a tree;”

- his resurrection from the dead, and manifestation to his disciples — “God raised him up the third day, and showed him openly, not to all the people, but to witnesses chosen before by God; even to us, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead;”

- his commission to the apostles — “He commanded us to preach to the people, and to testify that it is he who was ordained of God to be the Judge of the quick and the dead;”

- and finally, the sum and substance of the Gospel — the same Gospel which had been preached beforehand to Abraham, but was now more fully unfolded: “To him all the prophets gave witness, that through his name whoever believes in him shall receive remission of sin.”

Even this brief analysis, without any detailed exposition of Peter’s address, may suffice to show how pregnant it is with all Gospel truth, and how admirably suitable to the case of Cornelius. He was a devout man, a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and one who waited for the consolation of Israel. He had even heard — for the apostle speaks of him as “knowing” — the Word which God sent to the children of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ. But probably he had not had an opportunity to satisfy himself as to the truth of the Gospel, and was waiting, in a prayerful spirit, for further instruction, and clearer light. And while he waited and prayed, God sent this message, and prepared the way for it by those visions, first to himself and afterwards to Peter, which afford such an affecting proof of God’s solicitude and care for every humble inquirer. And the message was in every respect suited to his case.

For first, it made known to him the meaning and substance of the Gospel, of which it contains two brief, but most comprehensive summaries. It is described in the one as God’s proclamation of peace through Jesus Christ (Act 10.36); and in the other, as a message which declares that “through his name, whoever believes in him shall receive remission of sins” (Act 10.43). Secondly, it made known to him the evidence by which the truth, as it is in Jesus, is certified as being of divine and infallible authority. For he appeals to God’s testimony, who “anointed him with the Holy Ghost,” and who was with him in his mighty works. He appeals to the testimony of the apostles, who were eyewitnesses of his miracles, and conversed with him after his resurrection. And he appeals to the concurrent witness of ancient prophecy, for “the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.’’ (Rev 19.10)

And when this reference to the evidence which arises from God’s testimony, and that of his inspired apostles and prophets, was immediately followed up by the descent of the Holy Ghost, need we wonder that Cornelius at once embraced the Gospel, and entered by baptism into the Christian Church? For “while Peter was still speaking, the Holy Ghost fell on all those who heard the Word; so that those of the circumcision who believed were astonished, as many as came with Peter, because the gift of the Holy Ghost was poured out on the Gentiles also. For they heard them speak with tongues, and magnify God.”

The Holy Spirit was the agent by whom Cornelius was convinced and established. This was partly by his miraculous gifts, which are no doubt intended in the narrative, and which afforded evidence on which his faith might securely rest. And it was partly also, by His spiritual grace accompanying the preaching of the Word, by which Cornelius was enabled to believe to the saving of his soul.

III. As to the nature of the change which was now wrought on the mind of Cornelius, and its practical results in his life and conversation — it properly consisted in his being enabled to believe that the Messiah whom God had promised to the fathers — and whom, as a believer in Old Testament prophecy, Cornelius had long expected — had actually come; and that he was Jesus of Nazareth. The whole of Peter’s message is directed to the establishment of this great truth that “Jesus is the Christ.” And the cordial reception of that truth, in its full Gospel import, constituted the change which had now passed on the mind of the devout centurion.

In the case of one who had previously been so conscientious, and whose whole character was consistent with his profession as a Jewish proselyte, there was no room for such a striking manifestation of the change which is wrought by conversion, as in the case of the Philippian jailer, or even of Saul of Tarsus. But it was doubtless attended, even in Cornelius’ experience, with a very great and happy change. For not only is it said that “he was baptized” in token alike of his faith in Christ, and his submission to Christ’s command, but he and his household “glorified God.”

We have here a beautiful example of the way in which the providence of God works in different places, on the same plan, and for the same object. Simultaneously at Joppa and at Caesarea, God’s agency was at work. And the coincidence or concurrence of events, demonstrated the interposition of Him “who is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in working.” We also have an interesting example of personal and family religion under the less perfect dispensation of the Old Testament, and one which may well put to shame many a professor enjoying far higher privileges among ourselves. Cornelius was a godly man, and he carried his religion into his family, caring for the souls of those who were committed to his care: — “he feared God with all his house;” — “he prayed in his house;” — he had “a devout soldier’’ for his servant; — and he collected his whole household to listen to the apostle, saying, “Now, therefore, we are all here present before God, to hear all things that are commanded you by God.”

Again, the case of Cornelius affords a memorable proof of the efficacy of prayer, and how much prayer is concerned in the advancement of believers, as well as in the conversion of sinners. Cornelius was praying when “the man in bright clothing stood before him;” Peter was praying when the sheet descended from heaven; and the Centurion’s kinsfolk and friends were assembled for the same purpose when Peter arrived.

But the great end of all the visions and events recorded in this chapter, was to declare the abolition of all distinctions between Jew and Gentile, so that both alike were welcome to share in the blessings of the Gospel, and that no man should now be called common or unclean. The instruction of Cornelius and his family, important as it was, was not the only, nor even the chief object of God in this wonderful interposition. It was designed to remove the prejudice which the Jews, and even the apostles themselves, still entertained against the Gentiles, and to open the door for their admission into the Christian Church. The narrative teaches us to cherish a catholic spirit: first, as it represents Cornelius as a true believer, even though a Gentile by birth and a Jewish proselyte by profession; and secondly, as it shows that everyone on whom the Holy Spirit is bestowed — whether in His miraculous gift, or in His renewing grace — is to be recognised and received as a member of the Church of Christ. “Can any man forbid water, that these should not be baptized who have received the Holy Ghost as well as we?”

CHAPTER 6. Lydia.

Act 16.13-15

There is one important circumstance which was common to all those cases of conversion that are recorded in Scripture, and which well deserves our most serious consideration. I mean the direct operation of the Holy Spirit on the mind of every true convert to the Christian faith — in the way of applying the truth which is ordinarily the means of conversion. The agency of the Spirit is specially referred to by our Lord himself, in one of the last and most affecting of those addresses which he delivered to his disciples before his death. And by comparing his words with other passages of Scripture, we learn that there were two very different ways in which the Spirit acts; or two distinct modes of operation by which he carries into effect his great design. The one is external, and sensible; the other is internal, and spiritual. We read of “the manifestation of the Spirit which is given to every man to profit with;” and we read of the “indwelling of the Spirit in the hearts of true believers.’’ In other words, the dispensation of the Gospel is called the “ministration of the Spirit,” for two distinct reasons. First, on account of the miraculous gifts which were granted to the apostles and first converts; and secondly, on account of the enlightening, converting, and sanctifying grace which rendered the Gospel effectual for their salvation. There is a wide difference between the two.

They differ in their nature, their use, and their effects — the one being an appropriate evidence, a divine attestation of the truth; — the other, a direct operation on the soul, by which it is renewed and quickened, and turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. And not only are they widely different, but we have reason to believe that they might be separated from each other. Such is the difference between the miraculous gifts and the inward graces of the Spirit, it is a delightful truth that the latter and the more valuable of the two (grace), is the permanent inheritance of the Christian Church. His miraculous gifts were to cease when they had fulfilled their end by establishing the truth; but the Spirit’s office did not cease. Nor was his work completed when, by his descent on the day of Pentecost and his subsequent effusion at Caesarea on the Gentiles, the promise of the Father was fulfilled, and the truth of the Gospel established. Considered as an evidence, the gift of the Spirit was decisive. But evidence is not enough — nor an inspired Bible — nor a faithful ministry. In every human heart, there is a spirit of unbelief and enmity, and many a lofty imagination which exalts itself against the knowledge of God. This is not overcome by any amount of evidence, nor by the mere force of truth; it can only be subdued by the inward grace of the Spirit. And hence, we learn that it belongs to His office, and forms a part of his blessed work at all times, to “shine into our hearts” — “to renew us in the spirit of our mind” — “to quicken us into spiritual life” — “to open our eyes” — and “to turn us from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God.”

The direct personal operation of the Spirit on the soul of every convert, is beautifully illustrated by the case of Lydia. It is said of her, that while she listened to the preaching of the Word, “the Lord opened her heart, so that she attended to the things which were spoken by Paul.”

I. In regard to her state and character before her conversion and baptism, the narrative, although extremely short, contains several intimations which throw a very interesting light on her case, and on that of a large class in our own time, who resemble her in the chief points of their character. It is intimated that, like the Roman centurion and the Ethiopian treasurer, she was a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and a believer in the one only, the living and the true God. By birth a Gentile, and a native of Thyatira, she had come to Philippi as a seller of purple. And although a foreigner, she maintained in the city that she adopted, and amidst the idolatries which prevailed in it, a devout attachment to her religion, and she continued in the worship of God. It is also intimated, I think, with sufficient clearness, that she was really devout, and imbued with a spirit of prayer. For not only did she observe the Sabbath in conformity with the law of Moses, but when probably no other opportunity was afforded to attend the ordinances of public worship — in a city where both the magistrates and the multitude seem to have been easily excited against any innovation in their public customs — she “went out of the city by a riverside, where prayer was usually made.” It is deeply interesting to mark that, at the time of her conversion, this devout woman was attending a prayer meeting in the open air by the waterside, along with a few other women who were in the habit (it would seem) of assembling together for this purpose. For it is said that “they resorted there.”

And it is not less interesting to notice that Paul and his companions did not reckon it beneath them to join that humble meeting; but on the contrary, hearing the noise and tumult of the city, they sought out the little band of praying women, and sat down beside them, and spoke to them the Word of life. And while they were thus engaged in prayer and conference, “the Lord opened the heart of Lydia” — a striking proof of the immediate efficacy of prayer. Without prayer, we have no reason to look for a blessing. God may, indeed, and sometimes does surprise a prayerless sinner: He is sometimes found by those who did not seek Him, as in the case of the jailer in this same city. And then the first effect of his change will be the same that the Lord marked in the case of Paul, when he said, “Behold, he prays!” But although this may happen in manifestation of God’s sovereignty and the riches of his undeserved mercy, there is no promise in the Bible except to prayer; and that promise is alike unlimited and sure — “Ask, and you shall receive; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; and he that seeks finds; and to him that knocks it shall be opened.” “If any man lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men liberally, and does not upbraid, and it shall be given him.”

It is implied in the narrative, however, that while she was a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and a sincere worshipper of the true God, her heart was still shut or closed against receiving the truth as it is in Jesus. It is said, “the Lord opened her heart” — an expression which clearly implies that, devout as she was, her heart was in such a state that, but for the gracious operation of the Spirit, it would have excluded the Gospel message. Such is the natural state of every heart; and by the heart, I mean, as is generally meant in Scripture, the whole moral nature of man — including alike his understanding, his conscience, his will, and his affections. In this comprehensive sense, the heart is closed against the reception of the truth — and every faculty presents an obstacle such as divine grace alone can remove. In reference to unregenerate men, it is expressly said that their understandings are shut against the light of the Gospel — insomuch that it is said of the Jews, with the Old Testament in their hands, “But their minds were blinded,” — “the veil was upon their hearts,’’ and ‘‘if our Gospel is hidden, it is hidden to those who are lost: in whom the god of this world has blinded the minds of those who do not believe, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them;” — and “the natural man,” universally, “does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.” And so the conscience is “seared as with a hot iron” — the “very mind and conscience is defiled” — and “the heart is hardened;” and thus there are many bars or obstacles which obstruct the entrance of the truth.[67]

There is the bar of ignorance: many “hear the Word, but do not understand it; and the wicked one takes away that which was sown;” — there is the bar of unbelief, which rejects the testimony of God; — there is the bar of enmity, for “the carnal mind is enmity against God; it is not subject to the law of God, nor indeed can it be;” — there is the bar of presumption or pride: “The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God; God is not in all his thoughts;” — there is the bar of discouragement and despair: “You said there is no hope; for I have loved strangers, and I will go after them;” — there is the bar of unwillingness, “You will not come to me that you might have life;” — there is the bar of worldly-mindedness: “The cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the Word, and it becomes unfruitful;” — There is the bar of sloth; “A little more sleep, a little more slumber, and the folding of the hands to sleep;” — there is the bar of vicious passion and depraved habits; any one cherished sin is enough to exclude the saving power of the truth — “For this is the condemnation, that light has come into the world, and that men have loved the darkness rather than the light, because their deeds are evil.”

Under the influence of these and similar hindrances, the heart is closed against the admission of the truths —as really closed as the eyes of the blind, or the ears of the deaf. For our Lord himself says, ‘‘In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah, which says, By hearing you shall hear, and shall not understand; and seeing you shall see, and shall not perceive: For this people’s heart has grown fat, and their ears are dull of hearing, and they have closed their eyes; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and be converted [turned], and I should heal them.” And in the same light he represents the state of our own hearts, when he now says to each of us, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hears my voice, and opens the door, I will come in to him.’’

But it may be asked, If Lydia was a sincere and devout worshipper of the true God, is it reasonable to suppose that her heart was thus shut against God’s truth? I answer that, even in persons of true piety, there may be much remaining ignorance, and many groundless prejudices which, but for the enlightening grace of the Spirit, might prevent them from embracing the Gospel. This was remarkably exemplified in those “devout and honourable women, and the chief men of the city, whom the Jews stirred up, and who raised persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them out of their coasts — insomuch, that the apostles shook off the dust of their feet against them.” And still more, we have the case of Paul himself, who was a Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee, living according to the strictest sect of the law. And yet his heart was barred by invincible prejudices against the truth, until it was removed on his way to Damascus. And so it was with Lydia. She too was devout; but her heart was closed, until it was opened by the Lord. And many professors in modern times resemble her in this — being conscientious and devout according to their light, but still ignorant or unbelieving, or imbued with strong prejudice in regard to the Gospel of Christ. [68] It was just so with Nathaniel, of whom our Lord said, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile.” And yet, he was so far influenced by mere prejudice, as to say in answer to the first intimation he received of the Messiah, “Can any good thing come out of Galilee?” And if in such cases, divine agency is needful to open the heart to receive the truth, then how much more in the vast majority who are utterly irreligious and unconcerned!

II. If we consider the means by which her conversion was effected, we will find that there was no miraculous accompaniment of any kind here, but only an example of what takes place in the experience of every genuine convert. It is simply said, “A certain woman heard us, whose heart the Lord opened, so that she attended to the things which were spoken by Paul.”

But this pregnant statement brings before us, in a state of beautiful combination, two things which are equally essential to a sinner’s conversion: the first is, the agency of the Spirit; and the second is the instrumentality of the Word. There was a direct personal operation of the Spirit on the heart of Lydia; He removed those obstacles which might otherwise have obstructed the admission of the truth. It was not Paul who effected this. Paul preached; but though inspired with supernatural wisdom, and endowed with miraculous powers, and especially with the gift of tongues, he himself says, “Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but God gives the increase. Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom you believed, as the Lord gave to every man?” God alone can open the heart. That change consisted in opening the understanding, to discern the light of God’s truth — the conscience, to feel its convincing power — and the heart, to receive its sanctifying influence. And this belongs to the office of the Holy Ghost whose work is HEART-WORK, and consists of two parts — the opening of the Scriptures, and the opening of the mind, as we learn from the case of the disciples after his resurrection. It is said of them in one place, that they exclaimed — “Didn’t our hearts burn within us while he talked with us by the way, and opened to us the Scriptures?” And in another, “Then he opened their understandings, that they might understand the Scriptures.’’

But while the Lord alone can open the heart, he employs the truth as the instrument of conversion to the careless, and of edification to the devout inquirer. The Spirit’s agency does not supersede the use of the Word. On the contrary, the truth read or heard is still the wisdom of God, and the power of God, unto salvation. “The Lord opened the heart of Lydia,” but he did so “that she might attend to the things which were spoken by Paul.” It is by the truth contained in the Word, that this great change is wrought — that is the instrument which the Spirit of God renders effectual. And hence, while we are said to be “born of the Spirit,” we are also said to be “born not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, even by the Word of God, which lives and abides forever.” And again, while the Spirit is revealed as the Sanctifier, our Lord himself prayed in these memorable words, “Sanctify them by your truth; your Word is truth.” And both are combined — both the agency of the Spirit and the instrumentality of the Word — in that comprehensive statement of the apostle, “God has from the beginning chosen you unto salvation through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth.” Various similitudes are employed to represent the same thing; the Word is compared to a fire or furnace, in which His people are melted and tried; but the Lord sits as a refiner over it; — and as a hammer, a powerful instrument; but it is inert in itself, and effectual only when applied by a powerful arm; — and as a sword; “the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God;” a sharp two-edged sword, but utterly powerless unless it is applied by the Spirit. So David’s prayer combines a reference to both — “Open my eyes, that I may see wonderful things out of Your law.”

III. The nature of Lydia’s change, and the practical results which flowed from it, are only briefly indicated. But enough is said to show that she had that “faith which works by love,” and in which properly consists “the new creation.” For we read that she was baptized — thereby professing her faith in Christ, and her submission to his authority — and that, too, in a city where the professors of the Gospel were exposed to reproach and persecution. We read that as soon as she was baptized, she sought out the apostles, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house, and abide there.” Her faith was working by love to Christ and to his ministering servants, and producing zeal for his cause and service, such that it prompted her to make sacrifices for his name’s sake. And if these principles of faith and love were really planted in her heart, they would unquestionably produce in her later life, all the “peaceable fruits of righteousness.”

The case of Lydia suggests various practical lessons. It affords an example of the care with which God provided for the instruction of sincere inquirers in the Jewish Church. It shows, in a very striking light, the efficacy of prayer as a means of spiritual advancement. It illustrates the necessity of a great spiritual change, even in the case of those who are regular in their attendance at ordinances, and conscientious according to their light. It affords a beautiful example of the relative functions of the Word and Spirit in the work of conversion, and it enforces the duty of combining diligence in the use of means, with a spirit of dependence on the divine blessing. And it shows how different are the feelings of one “whose heart the Lord has opened” towards his faithful ministers, and the feelings of the ungodly multitude towards them. She constrained the apostles to reside in her house — the multitude rose against them, and committed them to prison, making their feet fast in the stocks.

CHAPTER 7. Timothy.

2Tim 3.14-15

It appears from Scripture, that while many are converted after a long course of carelessness and sinful indulgence, others are trained up for God from their earliest years, and sanctified even from the womb. The experience of these two classes must necessarily be widely different; while in whatever is essential to regeneration, it must be substantially the same in all. All men being by nature fallen and depraved, that which is “born of the flesh being flesh,” and “the carnal mind being” in every instance “enmity against God,” a new spiritual birth is universally and indispensably necessary to a new spiritual life. And no man lives, however gentle his natural disposition, and however propitious his early education, of whom it may not be said that “unless he is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Whenever that change occurs, and by whatever means it may be accomplished, it is substantially the same in all. It implies the enlightening, convincing, renewing, and sanctifying work of the Spirit, by which the natural blindness is removed, and the natural enmity subdued, and the natural man becomes a new creature — new in all his views and feelings, his desires and affections, his aims, habits, and hopes. And we greatly err if we suppose that in any one case, a good natural temperament, or a sound religious education, can of themselves introduce a fallen being into the spiritual kingdom of God, or supersede the grace and the agency of the Holy Spirit. That is spirit, and that alone, which is born of the Spirit. Every soul that is really converted must have that experience which is common to all true believers, and which consists in conviction of sin, an apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ, a cordial compliance with the Gospel call, and a course of conflict and warfare with its own corruptions.

But while some such change must be wrought on everyone at the period of his conversion, it may be brought about in a variety of ways. This will occasion great diversity in the experience of different believers. Some, for instance, are permitted to grow up without any religious culture, being deprived of the inestimable privilege of a father’s counsel and a mother’s prayers, and surrounded instead with the noxious influences of a domestic circle where there is no fear of God, no form of religion, and nothing in the shape of example, except what is fitted to corrupt and contaminate. Thus neglected in early life, and inured to vice from their earliest years, they go forth into the world, not only unprepared to resist, but predisposed to comply with its temptations. And following the bent of their own evil passions, and falling in with the current of evil society, they may remain for years utterly careless of their souls, of God, and of eternity. And they may be allowed to go on to great lengths in wickedness till, by some providential dispensation, or by an awakening sermon, or even by the remorseful restlessness of their own consciences, they are brought under serious concern, and led to inquire, “What must I do to be saved?”

The case of such persons is illustrated by the experience of the dying malefactor, and of the Philippian jailer, who had both been careless, and one of them had been utterly wicked in life — till by the awful circumstances in which they were placed, they were awakened, convinced, and converted to God. But while such cases do occur, and are sufficient to show that God’s grace is alike free and sovereign, and able to soften the hardest heart, and to save even at the eleventh hour, there are others whose experience is widely different. They are the children of religious parents — they have enjoyed the inestimable advantages of Christian instruction, and the still more precious privilege of constant intercourse with a domestic circle, where every influence is favourable to their moral culture — where example is combined with precept, and the tenderest affection with paternal authority — and the family meet around the domestic altar to read God’s Word, and to sing his praise, and to unite in social prayer — and every association is more tender and enduring, because it is formed in the morn of life, and connects religion with the most endearing relations, and the holiest charities of home. By such means, many grow up in those families which are nurseries for the Church of Christ — well-instructed in the truths of the Gospel, impressed with a feeling of reverence for religions ordinances, and imbued with sentiments and dispositions which render them amiable and engaging in their manners. And these serve at least to preserve them from the grosser pollutions of the world. While in not a few, the precious seed sown in early life, takes root in the heart, and grows up so gradually and imperceptibly, that they may not be conscious at any one time, of any great or sudden change, such as was experienced by the dying thief and the poor jailer – even though the work of grace has really begun, and will be carried on to perfection. In such cases, it is manifest that we are not to expect precisely the same course of experience as is found in those who, after a life of sin, are suddenly awakened and changed. And from this gradual class, we have selected the case of Timothy, as a very interesting and instructive example.

The account which is given of this eminent and devoted servant of God, shows that his first serious impressions were derived from his religious education in early life, and from the pious care and example of his parents. The apostle tells us that from “a child he had known the holy Scriptures,” — referring to his early instruction in the truths of the Old Testament. He had access to this (even though his father was a Greek) through the pious care of his mother, who was a Jewess. For he is thus introduced to our notice: “Then Paul came to Derbe and Lystra. And behold, a certain disciple was there, named Timotheus, the son of a certain woman who was a Jewess, and believed; but his father was a Greek.” What is of much more importance than her mere profession, is that she was a woman of sincere piety; and the same piety characterised other members of her family. For the apostle, writing to Timothy as “his dearly beloved son,” says, “I thank God when I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in you, which dwelt first in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice; and I am persuaded is in you also.”

Here is a beautiful example of domestic piety; the aged grandmother cherishing an unfeigned faith in the promise which God had given to the fathers, and waiting for the consolation of Israel; the mother cherishing the same hope, and gladly embracing the Gospel as soon as it was proclaimed to her. For she was not only a Jewish, but a Christian believer. And the young man was taught from his earliest years to “know the Scriptures, which were able to make him wise unto salvation.” And he became, under Paul’s ministry, a disciple of the school of Christ, and afterwards an eminent, zealous, and devoted minister of the everlasting Gospel. Being connected with a Greek by marriage, the pious Jewess had not, it would seem, insisted on the circumcision of her child. But she was not inattentive to his religious training — she instructed him in the knowledge of God’s truth. And most amply was her motherly care repaid, when this child of many prayers became the companion of an apostle, and the honoured instrument of founding many churches, and winning many souls to Christ.

The details of his experience are not recorded. But from the incidental intimations which are given in the course of the two epistles which were addressed to him, we may gather that his experience corresponded in substance, with that of every other child of God: — he must have been convinced of sin, so as to feel his need of a Saviour; — he must have been enlightened in the knowledge of Christ, so as to perceive His all-sufficiency and suitableness; — and he must have personally closed with Christ, receiving him as his Prophet to teach, as his Priest to reconcile, and as his Lord to govern him. All this is implied in his profession as a Christian, and especially as a Christian evangelist, since nothing short of this could have sufficed, either for his own salvation or for the work of the ministry. And what secret conflicts, what inward struggles he endured, educated as he had been by pious parents, and also instructed by an inspired apostle, is sufficiently evinced by the exhortation of Paul, where he speaks of his being engaged in a warfare — “Fight the good fight of faith; lay hold on eternal life,” — “Hold fast the form of sound words which you have heard from me,” — “Continue in the things which you have learned and have been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them; and that from a child you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus.”

The case of Timothy affords several useful lessons.

1. It shows that little children are capable subjects of divine grace. In the case of adults, the truth apprehended and believed is the instrumental means of conversion and sanctification. But before children are capable of knowing the truth, they are fit subjects of God’s grace, as is evident from many passages of Scripture. We read of some who were sanctified from the womb:

“Now hear, O Jacob my servant: and Israel, whom I have chosen: thus says the Lord who made you, and formed you from the womb — I will pour my Spirit on your seed, and my blessing upon your offspring: and they shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water courses. One shall say, I am the Lord’s; and another shall call himself by the name of Jacob; and another shall subscribe with his hand unto the Lord, and surname himself by the name of Israel.”

“Hearken to me, O house of Jacob, and all the remnant of the house of Israel, who are borne by me from the belly, who are carried from the womb. Even to your old age I am he; and even to hoary hairs I will carry you. I have made and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.”

It was by the Spirit that the Lord Christ was sanctified in his human nature, so that the angel spoke of “the holy thing that would be born of Mary;” and the prophet of whom it is said that, “he was called from the womb, and formed from the womb to be his servant.” And when, during his personal ministry, “little children were brought to him, that he should put his hands on them and pray; and the disciples rebuked them,” Jesus said, “Suffer the little children, and do not forbid them to come to me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” Indeed, on another occasion, “Jesus called a little child to him, and set him in the midst of the disciples and said, Truly, I say to you, Unless you are converted, and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” That little children are capable subjects of God’s grace, is implied in the provision that was made for their admission to the privileges of the covenant — first, by circumcision under the Old Testament, and secondly, by baptism under the New. And this precious truth is our warrant and encouragement in prayer, when we remember those objects of our tenderest affections at the throne of grace, while they are as yet unable to pray for themselves.

2. We learn from the case of Timothy, that a sound religious education in early life is often blessed as a means of saving conversion to God. The apostle traces Timothy’s religion to this source: “From childhood you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto salvation.” His early acquaintance with the Bible was a great and precious privilege. For although from the operation of other causes, Bible knowledge is sometimes unproductive of saving benefit, yet it is the instrument by which God works, and an instrument which is in itself at once absolutely perfect, and admirably adapted for the end which it is designed to serve. A great commendation is given to the Word, when it is said that, “it is able to make us wise unto salvation;” that “it is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction in righteousness;” and that it is sufficient “to make the man of God perfect, thoroughly equipped for all good works.” The Bible contains all the truth which is needful to be known for our salvation. Considered simply as a means or instrument, it is absolutely perfect. And every parent who really believes in God’s Word, and considers it as God’s instrument for the salvation of sinners, must feel it to be his most sacred obligation, as well as his sweetest privilege, to impart to his immortal children a knowledge of its precious truths. He will remember that he has in his hands an instrument which God himself declares to be “the sword of the Spirit” — that he has that truth which is emphatically described as “the good seed;” and with mingled feelings of awe, and gratitude, and hope, he will seek to apply that instrument to the heart of his child, and to sow that precious seed in his soul from his earliest years. Nor will he be content with giving a few formal lessons, or prescribing a few stated tasks. Out of the “abundance of his heart, his mouth will speak,” and his conversation will be seasoned with God’s truth, in those hours of affectionate and confiding converse, when the hearts of his children are most open to receive “the truth in love” — remembering God’s words to his ancient people: “These words, which I command you this day, shall be in your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise up.” But neither formal instruction, nor frequent conversation on divine truth will avail, unless they are combined with exemplary faith and piety on the part of parents. Children are quick to discern even the minutest indication of real character; and a great part of their education consists in those impressions which are made on their minds incidentally, and which are often imperceptibly deepened by circumstances which escape the notice of their parents.

True education is a course of training — not a system of lessons, but the formation of practical habits; and these depend far more on the spirit and conduct of a family, than on the tasks of the school: “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” This training implies much more than mere teaching; it is best promoted by the unfeigned faith and holy living of which the apostle speaks in the mother and grandmother of Timothy. And it is deeply interesting to mark how this eminent servant of God was prepared for his future labours by the quiet and unostentatious, but real piety of these women in the private walks of domestic life. And that the Holy Spirit himself, in preparing a record for the universal and permanent instruction of the Church, does not disdain to mention, in connection with the labours of an inspired evangelist, the unfeigned faith which dwelt first in his grandmother Lois, and afterwards in his mother Eunice. Nor can we doubt that this is the reason why many an aged saint is spared, when their work on earth might seem to be finished — even that they may exhibit the power of God’s grace and truth to the generation following, and leave the impress of their own characters on the tender minds of the children who are playing around them!

3. We learn from the case of Timothy, that true religion is sometimes implanted in the soul of a child at a very early period, and continues to grow with his growth, and strengthen with his strength, even though for a time his progress may appear to be almost imperceptible. Jesus himself said, “The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the least of all seeds. But when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in its branches.” And again, “the kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened.” These parables are equally descriptive of the kingdom of God as it exists in the world, and of the kingdom of God in every single soul. Grace grows and spreads, and that too is imperceptibly, just as the mustard-seed springs from the earth, and the leaven diffuses itself among meal. This is often the blessed effect of an early religious education. And even if the good seed of the Word were not to spring up as quickly as we might desire, yet being incorruptible, we may cherish the hope that sooner or later, it will be quickened so as to produce the peaceable fruits of righteousness, maybe long after we have been gathered to our fathers.

In now addressing those who, like Timothy, have enjoyed the privilege of an early religious education, and who may still enjoy the society, or at least remember with affectionate gratitude, the counsels and the prayers of their pious parents, I must not forget that they may yet belong to two very different classes. There may be some who, like Timothy, have not only known the Holy Scriptures from their youth, but also have that “unfeigned faith which dwelt in him;” while there may be others who enjoyed, like him, the advantages of a religious education, and are as yet at least, destitute of saving grace. No human being may be able to discriminate between the two classes, so as to determine to which you individually belong. But I would affectionately remind you that there are two classes even among those who have received a religious education — and that it is of infinite moment that you should determine for yourselves whether you belong to the one or the other.

The apostle’s exhortation is addressed to Timothy on the supposition that he was a true believer. And it is applicable, in its original purpose, only to those who, like him, have been made wise unto salvation. But before applying it to them, I would address myself to all who have shared in the advantages of early religious instruction, and would affectionately remind you that you have much reason for gratitude, and at the same time, reason for a very deep sense of your responsibility on account of the privileges which you have enjoyed. Even if the instruction which you have received, and the example which you have been privileged to witness, were to fail in leading you to saving conversion, be assured that they are in their own nature privileges of great value, and that they will form an element in your last account. At the judgment-seat, you will stand on a very different footing from that of the poor outcasts who live in the wretched streets and lanes of our city; and you will be reckoned with for the use of your Bibles, and your closets, and your family worship, and all your other means of grace. For it is the equitable law of God’s kingdom, that to “whomever much has been given, of him more shall be required.”

Impressed as I trust you are, with this solemn reflection, and with a sense of God’s distinguishing goodness to you, permit me further to remind you that just as there are many advantages, so there are also some peculiar dangers in your case. And of these I will only mention, first of all, the tendency of which you may perhaps be conscious, to readily take for granted that you are religious, merely because you are a member of a religious family; and from your youth, you have been accustomed to religious observances — forgetting that religion is, with every soul, a personal matter, and that it has its seat in the heart. Secondly, the danger of your mistaking the natural and common fruits of a religious education, for thorough conversion to God. Your knowledge, your amiable disposition, your gentle manners, your correct habits, your attendance at ordinances — all these and many more may be nothing but “the form of godliness,” while you are destitute of its power. And thirdly, the danger of your supposing that, because you know a great deal more than others, you have no need of further inquiry, and may give your thoughts to other studies, and your time to other pursuits.

These temptations are peculiarly incident to you. And while I warn you against them, I would point out a few symptoms by which you may discover the real state of your heart. Are you conscious of a sincere desire Godwards — such a desire that it leads you to pray for yourselves in secret, as well as to join with your families in prayer? Do you in your private, family, and public prayers — do you really seek after God, and offer up the desires of your heart to him? Are you convinced of sin, and have you discovered that the “heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked?” — and under a sense of sin, are you seeking to be cleansed by the blood of Christ, and to be purified by the grace of his Holy Spirit? If thus concerned for the salvation of your souls, you are seeking it in the way of God’s appointment, and making conscience of duty, then “wait upon the Lord, and be of good courage, and he will strengthen your heart; wait, I say, upon the Lord.” The apostle’s exhortation may be addressed to you, when he says to Timothy, “Continue in the things which you have learned, and have been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from a child you have known the Holy Scriptures;” — continue, i.e., “hold fast the beginning of your confidence — do not be turned away from the hope of the Gospel, but continue in these things.” Indeed, “meditate upon these things; give yourself wholly to them, that your profiting may appear to all.” Paul deemed it necessary to address such exhortations to Timothy, his dearly beloved son, of whose unfeigned faith he had no doubt, and to whom he gave that honourable testimony, “You know the proof of him, that as a son with the father, he has served with me in the Gospel.” And if notwithstanding, Paul is so urgent in exhorting him to flee youthful lusts, to avoid the snares and temptations of the world, to watch over his own spirit, and to maintain a constant warfare with sin — oh! isn’t this an affecting proof that you too require to be strengthened, and stirred up, and animated in the path of duty? His exhortation specially points to the careful and continued use of the means of grace; and if these were needful for Timothy, then how much more for you?

But if there are any who have enjoyed the advantages of a religious education, and who are yet unable to discover in themselves any of those hopeful symptoms which I have described; if they cannot honestly say that they have ever made the salvation of their souls a matter of personal concern — that they have ever sought after God, either in the retirement of their closets, or in the season of domestic worship; — or are now resting on Christ’s atonement, and desirous of the Spirit’s grace; — or if, on the contrary, they begin to be conscious of a repugnance to the strict views of religion in which they were brought up — of a disposition to cherish slighter thoughts of sin, and to lessen its guilt; — or of a tendency to be weary of a religious life, and to long after greater licence and gaiety than their father’s house affords; — if they are seldom or never found on their knees, or with their Bibles in their hand, and yet flatter themselves that there may be some easier road to heaven than their fathers trod before them; — then oh! let me beseech them now, and before they advance one step in that way which appears so attractive to them, to pause, and choose a course which they will be content to live and die in; and to remember as they make their choice, that heaven or hell is involved in it!

CHAPTER 8. Conversions At Pentecost.

Acts 2

The nature, method, and results of true scriptural conversion may be illustrated by the striking narrative which is given of the events that occurred at Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. These were in many respects extraordinary; they were accompanied with miraculous interposition; they produced a powerful impression on the public mind; and they resulted in the sudden and simultaneous conversion of several thousand souls. Yet, in other respects, they correspond exactly with the usual methods of God’s procedure in the conversion of individual sinners, and may afford an instructive example of the great change which may still be wrought by the faithful preaching of the Gospel, when it is applied by the power of his Spirit

I. In regard to the previous state of the three thousand souls who were converted on this occasion, there is reason to believe that they belonged to TWO DISTINCT CLASSES — the first including devout persons who were religious according to the light which they had previously enjoyed; and the second including, perhaps, a still larger number of irreligious men who had rejected and persecuted the Saviour, and were chargeable with the guilt of instigating or consenting to his death. The distinction which I draw between these two classes is founded on those parts of the narrative, on the one hand, which declare that among the assembled multitude there “were dwelling at Jerusalem, devout men, out of every nation under heaven;” and on the other hand, on those parts of Peter’s sermon in which he directly charges the guilt of the Lord’s blood on those whom he addressed: — “Him being delivered by the determinate counsel of God, you have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain,” — “God has made that same Jesus, whom you have crucified, both Lord and Christ.” So that here we have a variety of characters. Among the “devout men” who were assembled at Jerusalem for the celebration of a great religious festival, there might be some intelligent and godly Jews or proselytes who, like Cornelius, “feared God, and gave alms generously to the people, and prayed to God always;” — some others who, like the Ethiopian treasurer, were ignorant but sincere — while perhaps there were not a few who, like the devout women at Antioch, were filled with Jewish prejudices, and with an intolerant zeal which might lead them to take part in persecuting Christ and his humble followers. And among the mixed multitude who listened to Peter’s sermon, there were probably men of every different shade of character — some who had been active agents in the crucifixion of the Lord — others who had been mere spectators of it.  And according to their several habits of thought and feeling, these were so differently affected by the miraculous manifestation of the Spirit, that while some were impressed and affected by it, others treated it with mockery and scorn. How many belonging to each of these various classes were converted, we have no means of ascertaining. But it is plain that not a few then underwent this great change, who were chargeable with the guilt of the Saviour’s blood. For when Peter pressed this charge on their consciences, they “were pricked to the heart’’ — a clear proof that they were self-convicted and self-condemned.

II. If we now consider the circumstances which accompanied their conversion, and the means which effected it, we find that it is of considerable practical importance to distinguish between these two things, and assign to each the place which properly belongs to it. The circumstances of this case were, in some respects, extraordinary and peculiar, such that they have no parallel in the usual experience of the Christian Church; and some of the means which contributed more or less directly to the result which is recorded here, were preparatory; others were immediate and direct.

This great awakening of souls was preceded by fervent and united prayer. This was an important preparatory means — a means which, in accordance with the faithful promise of God, engaged almighty power on the side of the preachers of the Gospel. The apostles had been commanded by the Lord, immediately before his ascension to glory, to wait at Jerusalem until they received the promise of the Father. And when they returned to the city from Mount Olivet, “they went up into an upper room, where Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Thomas, Bartholomew, Matthew, James the son of Alpheus, Simon Zelotes,[69] and Judas the brother of James, all stayed. These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication with the women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren.” The number of the disciples at this time was about one hundred and twenty — these all continued to meet for prayer. And so, “when the day of Pentecost had come, they were all with one accord in one place,” when the promise of the Father was suddenly fulfilled by an outpouring of the Holy Ghost.

Mark here how prayer preceded the most remarkable awakening of souls that ever occurred in the Church of God; indeed, how it stood connected with the miraculous gifts of the Spirit. It was after frequent united prayer, and it was when they were again assembled for the same purpose, that “they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.” It is worthy of remark, too, that the Lord had given them an express promise, which left no doubt as to the communication of the Spirit’s gifts. For not only had Jesus said, before his crucifixion, “I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counselor, that he may abide with you forever, even the Spirit of truth;” but again, after his resurrection from the dead, and immediately before his ascension to glory, he said, “Behold I send the promise of my Father upon you. But wait in the city of Jerusalem until you are endued with power from on high.” “And being assembled together with them, he commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Father, which, he says, you have heard from me.” “You shall receive power after the Holy Ghost has come upon you: and you shall be witnesses to me, both in Jerusalem and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and to the uttermost part of the earth.” The Lord’s promise, then, was express. But his promise did not supersede their prayer. On the contrary, the former was the ground and reason of the latter, according to the saying of the prophet, “I the Lord have spoken it, and I will do it. Thus says the Lord God, for this I will yet be inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them.” (Eze 36.36-37)

Great things are still promised in answer to believing prayer. For not only do we have the general promise, “Ask, and you shall receive; seek and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you,” — but specially, in regard to the Holy Spirit, we have that precious assurance, “If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.” And a peculiar blessing is annexed to united social prayer; for “I say to you, that if two of you on earth agree, as touching anything that they ask, it shall be done for them by my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them.” Let these gracious promises be an encouragement to fervent, persevering prayer. And let us, with holy importunity, never hold our peace day or night. “You who mention the Lord, do not keep silence, and give Him no rest till he establishes, and till he makes Jerusalem a praise in the earth.”

In answer to believing prayer, the primitive disciples received the miraculous gifts of the Holy Spirit, which were also a preparatory means in leading to the great work of conversion which was accomplished soon afterwards. These gifts were in various respects, fitted to prepare the way for that glorious work. They served at once to strengthen the faith of the disciples, as they were a manifest fulfilment of the Lord’s word of promise — to qualify them for declaring the Gospel message to men of various nations then assembled at Jerusalem, as they conferred a power of speaking to them in their own languages — and to afford ample evidence to others of God’s interposition, as they were clearly and undeniably miraculous in their own nature. We have already seen that the gift of the Holy Spirit was the crowning evidence of the divine mission of the Saviour: it was purposely reserved, and expressly promised, as the divinely appointed proof of his ascension and exaltation to the right hand of God — of the acceptance of his finished work — and of its efficacy in procuring those gifts for men which he died to purchase, and was exalted to bestow. And we may well admire the wisdom of God in providing this crowning proof of the divine mission of the Saviour, and manifesting it at that particular time. For not only did it strengthen the faith of the apostles, and qualify them for declaring the Gospel in various languages,[70] but being sent during one of the great annual festivals of the Jews, it made known the truth and its divine evidence, to multitudes who were then collected at Jerusalem. And on their return to their respective homes, they carried with them the seed of the Word, and scattered it everywhere throughout the world. For there were among them “Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, dwellers in Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, in Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and in the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, Jews and Proselytes, Cretans and Arabs.”

Such were the preparatory means which led to the great work of conversion on the day of Pentecost — united social prayer on the part of the disciples or Church of Christ, and a miraculous effusion of the Holy Ghost in the gift of tongues.

But you will carefully observe that the conversions which are recorded here are not ascribed solely, or even chiefly, to the miraculous and extraordinary circumstances by which they were preceded. Otherwise they would afford no ground to expect similar conversions in these modern times, when the gift of tongues has ceased. The miraculous dispensation of the Spirit was a powerful preparatory means; but the direct and immediate means of conversion in this, as in every other case, was the preaching of Gospel truth, applied to the heart and conscience by the Holy Ghost. The gift of tongues served an important purpose in preparing the way for the free proclamation of the Gospel on the part of the apostles, and for the believing reception of it on the part of the people. For it enabled the apostles to speak, and the people to hear the Gospel, in various languages, so that it could be clearly understood, and intelligently believed. It was also fitted to excite their interest, and to awaken their attention to the Gospel message, inasmuch as the gift of tongues evinced the miraculous interposition of God. And it afforded sufficient evidence to authenticate the truth, and to establish the divine commission of the apostles — but it did not go further than this; it was not of itself the means of converting the soul. That change could then be wrought by no other means than those which are still effectual for the same end — I mean the truths of the Gospel, applied with power by the Spirit of God. You will observe that no conversion followed immediately on the miraculous gift of tongues. The effect of that wonderful manifestation was that all wondered, some doubted, others mocked — but none were converted till the glorious Gospel was proclaimed.

There were, in fact, THREE SUCCESSIVE STAGES in the experience of those who were converted on the day of Pentecost; and as many distinct results of the various means which were brought to bear upon them.

First of all, before any discourse was addressed to them, the whole multitude were called to witness the miraculous gift of tongues; and as its appropriate effect, this produced in some, a sense of awe and wonder; and in others, mockery and scorn. It set the minds of both classes to work — but the one in the way of anxious inquiry, the other in the way of sceptical explanation. For the immediate result of this miraculous dispensation is described, when it is said, “And they were all amazed, and were in doubt, saying one to another, What does this mean? Others mocking said, These men are full of new wine.’’ They were not converted — they were not even convinced by the miracle; but their attention was arrested by means of it.

Then followed, secondly, a work of conviction, which was wrought by the first part of Peter’s sermon, in which he established, by incontrovertible proof, the great truth that Jesus is the Christ. And this effect is described, when it is said, “Now, when they heard this, they were pricked in their heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren, what shall we do?” Here we see the gift of the Spirit, considered as the fruit and manifestation of Christ’s exaltation to glory, producing in the minds of unbelievers a deep conviction of sin. According to his own intimation to the apostles — “When he comes, he will reprove (or convince) the world of sin” — “of sin, because they do not believe in me.” Still their conversion was not complete. They were as yet only undergoing the preparatory discipline of conviction, and imbued with a spirit of thoughtful inquiry. But then followed,

Thirdly, the mark of real conversion, by which they were enabled and persuaded to embrace Christ for salvation. And this was effected, instrumentally, by the second part of Peter’s address, in which he declared the Gospel message, and exhorted them to close with it, by the gracious assurance that guilty as they were, they were welcome to come to Christ for life. “Then Peter said to them, Repent and be baptized every one of you, for the remission of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost; for the promise is to you and to your children; and to all who are far off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.” So that on the day of Pentecost, it was the Gospel chiefly, and not the miracle, which led to the great work of conversion by which three thousand souls were added to the Church of those who should be saved.

The direct means, then, of this great work of conversion, was Peter’s sermon, in which he unfolded the Gospel message, and pressed it home on their hearts and consciences, with a demonstration of the Spirit and power.

Let us briefly consider the scope and substance of this remarkable discourse. It divides itself into two parts. In the first, Peter does not disdain to remove a prejudice from the minds of his hearers which might have disinclined them to receive the message he was about to deliver. Accordingly, he begins by referring calmly to the accusation which “mockers” had raised against them, as if the apostles were intoxicated or unduly excited. He then refers to a passage in the prophecy of Joel, which predicted an outpouring of the Spirit of God, in virtue of which many would prophesy before “the great and notable day of the Lord.” And he represents the events which they now witnessed as the visible fulfilment of that prediction. He proceeds to fearlessly preach Christ crucified. He declares that Jesus of Nazareth was a man approved by God among them, by miracles, wonders, and signs which God did by him in their midst — appealing to their own knowledge, as affording ample confirmation of his testimony. He then charges home upon them the guilt of having taken, and by wicked hands crucified and slain him — appealing to their own consciences, as sufficient to convict them of this flagrant sin. He then declares his resurrection from the dead, both as predicted by the Psalmist, and as testified by the apostles, who were all witnesses that God had raised him up. And finally, he declares his exaltation by the right hand of God — not his ascension merely, but his glorification, in token of God’s acceptance, and in preparation for His great reward. For he represents the gift of the Holy Ghost as having been received from the Father, as a pledge of his approbation, and as having been dispensed by the Son, in the exercise of his royal power as a Prince and Saviour. This gift made it manifest that He who once hung on the cross, was now seated on the throne; and that he occupied that throne by virtue of His authority who said to him, “Sit at my right hand, until I make your foes your footstool.”

Thus Peter narrates the leading facts of the Lord’s personal history. Beginning at Nazareth, he traces him through his public ministry to the cross — from the cross to the grave — and from the grave to the throne of heaven. And the one purport and design of the whole of his discourse, is just to establish on the ground of its proper evidence, and to impress on their minds, that one great but simple truth which is stated in the 36th verse, as the sum and substance of his present testimony — “Therefore, let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God has made that same Jesus, whom you have crucified, BOTH LORD AND CHRIST.” The great object of the first part of Peter’s discourse, then, was to show that “Jesus is the Christ.” In other words, the same Jesus who was born at Bethlehem, brought up in Nazareth, and was crucified on Calvary, was the Messiah who had been promised to the fathers; and that he was, as his name imports, God’s Anointed One — his anointed Prophet, to declare his mind and will; his anointed Priest, to make reconciliation for the people; and his anointed Lord and King, whom they were bound to obey. This one truth, if established, was sufficient to demonstrate their guilt in having crucified the Lord of glory, and to change all the views and feelings with which they had previously regarded him. For if Jesus was the Christ, then they had been guilty of rebellion against God when they put him to death! And how could they be safe, if He were now on the throne?

The immediate effect that was produced on their minds by the first part of Peter’s sermon, was a conviction of their guilt and danger — a conviction which is here described as deeply painful and penetrating, when it is said, “They were pricked in their hearts.” And under the influence of this conviction, they uttered that famous question, “Men and brethren, what shall we do?” They might have begun to think it was all over for them — that their case was utterly hopeless — that having crucified the Lord of glory, there remained nothing for them “but a certain fearful expectation of judgment, and fiery indignation.” Their language speaks bewilderment, if not despair. They speak as men who don’t know which way to turn themselves, or what they could do.

But, oh! mark the freeness of the Gospel: having thus prepared them to receive the gracious message — having established the fact that Jesus is the Christ of God, and thereby awakened in them a sense of guilt and danger, and prompted a spirit of earnest inquiry — Peter at once, and without any qualification or reserve, unfolds the glad tidings of a full and free salvation. He excepts none, and excludes none; he exhorts all, and encourages all. For this is the glorious message which he was commissioned to deliver — “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. For the promise is to you, and to your children, and to all who are far off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.”

This is emphatically THE GOSPEL — the Gospel in all its fulness and in all its freeness. It proceeds on a supposition of their guilt and danger, and addresses them as sinners. But at the same time, and to these same sinners, it proclaims the remission of sins; indeed, the remission of sins through that very blood by which their hands were stained, and which now lay heavy on their consciences. They are exhorted to be baptized, in token of their being washed by that blood which might seem, like the blood of Abel, to call for Heaven’s vengeance against them. But this was “the blood of sprinkling, which speaks better things than the blood of Abel.” And here, instead of God saying, “What have you done? the voice of your brother’s blood cries to me from the ground” — He commissions his ministering servant to preach that this very blood, is for the remission of sins! True, it was their sin that they had shed this blood; and Peter charges them with it, when he says, “Being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, you have taken, and by wicked hands, have crucified and slain him.” But mark, it was the very blood which they had sinfully shed, whereby they were to obtain the remission of that and every other sin — for this “was the blood of the New Testament shed for many, for the remission of sins.” It was their sin that they crucified the Lord; and yet his crucifixion was the means of their salvation.

And the same truth is applicable to ourselves. For let it be remembered, our guilt was the real cause of the Saviour’s sufferings — our sins were the nails which suspended him to the accursed tree. He who knew no sin was made sin for us; he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; and as without the shedding of blood there could be no remission, so by the blood of Jesus the sins which caused his death are freely forgiven. For now, in consequence of that stupendous atonement, God can be the just God and yet the Saviour; the sin has been expiated, and the sinner may be saved. This is the Gospel message. And it was the will of Him who died on the cross “that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.”

The sum and substance of the Gospel is repentance and remission of sins — remission of sins through the name of Jesus. And the perfect freeness of it is beautifully illustrated by the narrative of what occurred on the day of Pentecost, viewed in connection with our Lord’s command that this doctrine should be preached among all nations, beginning at JERUSALEM. — Beginning at Jerusalem! — at the city of his murderers — the same city whose streets had but recently resounded with the cry, “Crucify him! crucify him!” — the city that had called forth his tears, when he wept over it, and said, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets, and stone those who are sent to you. How often I would have gathered your children as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you would not.” — “Oh! that you had known, even you, in this your day, the things which belong to your peace; but now they are hidden from yours eyes;” — the city, which besides being washed with his tears, was now stained by his blood — that same city, guilty and devoted as it was, was yet to receive the first announcement of the remission of sins. And the Lord’s command was fulfilled on the day of Pentecost, when Peter freely proclaimed repentance, and the remission of sins, even to the very men whom he charged as the murderers of his Lord. To them, without exception and without reserve, he proclaimed a full and free salvation. And in this one fact, we have a conclusive proof of the perfect freeness of the Gospel — for where is the man now under the Christian ministry whose case is worse than that of the thousands who then received the joyful sound?

Viewing it in this light, John Bunyan, the able author of the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” makes a felicitous and powerful application of this part of the Gospel narrative, to remove all the doubts and scruples of those who think themselves too guilty to be saved, or who do not sufficiently understand the perfect freeness of this salvation.[71] He supposes one of those whom Peter addressed, exclaiming, “But I was one of those who plotted to take away his life: is there hope for me? Another, But I was one of those who bore false witness against him: is there grace for me? A third, But I was one of those who cried out, ‘Crucify him! crucify him!’ can there be hope for me? A fourth, But I was one of those that spit in his face when he stood before his accusers, and I mocked him when in anguish he hung bleeding on the tree: is there hope for me? A fifth, But I was one who gave him vinegar to drink: is there hope for me?” And when in reply, Peter proclaims, ‘Repent and be baptized EVERY ONE OF YOU for the remission of sins, and you shall receive the Holy Ghost; for the promise is to you and to your children,’ — Bunyan applies it this way to the CONSCIENCE of every sinner: “Therefore, sinner, be ruled by me in this matter. Do not pretend yourself to be another man, if you have been a vile sinner. Go as you are to Jesus Christ.[72] Put yourself among the most vile, and allow Him alone to put you among the children. You are, as it were, called by name, to come for mercy. You, man of Jerusalem, hearken to the call,” — say, “Stand aside, devil, Christ calls me. Stand away, unbelief! Christ calls me. Stand away, all my discouraging apprehensions, for my Saviour calls me to receive mercy.” “Christ, as he sits on the throne of grace, points over the heads of thousands directly to such a man, and says, Come — therefore, since He says come, let the angels make a lane, and all men make room, that the Jerusalem sinner may come to Christ for mercy!”

But while the free remission of sins through the blood of Christ was the salvation which Peter proclaimed, it was a salvation which stood connected with an entire change of mind and heart. And hence, the offer of a free forgiveness is combined with an exhortation to “Repent and be baptized.” Repentance means, properly, a change of mind — and it implies faith in the truth which they had formerly rejected, but which they were now called to receive; sorrow for their sin in crucifying the Lord of glory; and a cheerful surrender of themselves to his authority, now that they were convinced of his exaltation. It might seem an unreasonable thing for Peter to call them to repent, when this implied so great a change of mind and heart — a change far surpassing the power of unaided nature. Was it not written that, “The carnal mind is enmity against God;” — that “The natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; nor can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned;” — and that “No man can call Jesus, Lord, except by the Holy Ghost”? And what was there in his words that could overcome that enmity, or cure this blindness, or impart power to repent and believe? Peter was not deterred by any consideration of this kind. He preached boldly, “Repent and be baptized;” and afterwards, “Repent and be converted;” simply because he knew that his word, weak in itself, might be made mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds (2Cor 10.4). For while such was the substance of Peter’s sermon, which was the instrumental means of the great work of conversion on the day of Pentecost, it must never be forgotten that the truth thus declared, was rendered effectual by the accompanying grace of the Holy Spirit.

I don’t speak at present of the gift of tongues, or any other of the miraculous manifestations of the Spirit’s power; but of his inward grace, exerted on the minds, consciences, and hearts of the hearers, by which “their eyes were opened, and they were turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God.” It is true that Peter was an inspired apostle; it is also true that the Gospel which he preached was in every respect suited as an instrument for effecting the conversion of souls. No, but it is equally true that his words were accompanied with such a manifest interposition of divine power, as to be plainly miraculous. But all this would not have accomplished the work, had the inward, enlightening, and regenerating grace of the Spirit been withheld. It is the solemn testimony of another apostle, himself an inspired man, and endowed with the gift of tongues and the power of working miracles, that “Paul may plant, and Apollos water; but God gives the increase. Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom you believed, as God gave to every man?” If any believed, it was because “it was given to them on behalf of Christ to believe in his name,” for “faith is the gift of God;” and if any repented, it was because their hearts were softened and changed by Him who is “exalted as a Prince and Saviour, to give repentance and the remission of sins.”

There are two very different operations of the Spirit of God which are distinctly mentioned in the New Testament — the one external, the other internal — the one temporary, the other permanent — the one peculiar to a few, the other common to all in every age who are savingly converted to God. The first consists in those gifts of prophecy, tongues, or miracles, which were the appropriate evidences of God’s interposition; but these were not in themselves either the sure means or the invariable symptoms of salvation. The second consists in those inward graces of faith, repentance, love, peace, and joy, which constitute the elements of a new spiritual life in the soul.

It follows that there must have been, on the day of Pentecost, another operation of the Holy Ghost, besides the miraculous gift of tongues — even a direct operation on the soul of every convert, applying the truth with power to his heart and conscience, subduing his will, and bringing him into captivity to the obedience of Christ. The effect of the miraculous dispensation, corresponded with the impression which is now produced on the public mind by the reading of the Scriptures: many are impressed and half convinced, who are not savingly converted. And in both cases, an internal work of the Spirit is essentially necessary to give efficacy to his outward teaching by the Word, or his outward testimony by miracles and signs. Thousands probably left the streets of Jerusalem on that memorable occasion, awestruck and astonished by what they had seen and heard, but still unconvinced and unconverted; and the three thousand who believed, were enabled and persuaded to do so by the effectual grace of the Spirit of God. So it is at the present time. We still live under a dispensation which is emphatically called the “ministration of the Spirit.” And although his visible testimony by signs and miracles is no longer granted, we have in our hand his written testimony — even the Word, which is the Spirit’s witness to Christ.

But that Word, although replete with proofs of the Spirit’s teaching, will not avail for our conversion, any more than the gift of tongues availed on the day of Pentecost for the conversion of all who witnessed it — not unless it is accompanied with that inward and effectual operation by which the three thousand were added to the Church of the living God. But this enlightening, convincing, and sanctifying grace of the Spirit, is the permanent privilege of the Christian Church. And “while miracles have ceased and tongues have failed,” we are still privileged to expect that “God will give the Spirit to those who ask Him.” And surely the Word, now completed, and the Spirit, always promised, may yet accomplish as great a work in the experience of modern believers, as was wrought on the day of Pentecost by the first preaching of the Gospel in the streets of Jerusalem.

III. We now proceed to consider the result of this great work, as it is described in the short but significant account which is given here, of the numbers who were converted, and the subsequent life and conduct of the converts.

In regard to the numbers who were converted on this memorable occasion, it is said, “Then those who gladly received the Word were baptized; and the same day there were added to them about three thousand souls.” Here is a remarkable and precious proof of the efficacy of the Gospel ministry when it is accompanied with the grace of the Spirit — three thousand souls converted suddenly by one sermon. And that, too, was from among a multitude who were chargeable with crucifying the Lord of glory, in a city which was already doomed to righteous destruction! [73] There is much in this wonderful event that is fitted to encourage the hope, and to animate the zeal of the Christian Church, in prosecuting the arduous and — with reference to mere human power — the impracticable work of the world’s conversion. For here we see how soon and how suddenly the most virulent opposition may be disarmed, and the most sceptical indifference broken up by the exercise of that divine power which can change the hearts of men, and convert the boldest naysayers into humble disciples — turn the fiercest enemies into the most devoted friends of the Gospel. That divine power still exists, and will be put forth for the conviction of the world and the increase and edification of the Church, in answer to believing prayer. This is the sheet-anchor [74] of our hope — the sole ground of our confident expectation, that sooner or later the whole earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, and that all the kingdoms of the world shall become the kingdom of our God and of his Christ. The conversion of three thousand souls by one sermon, on the day of Pentecost, is only an example of what may yet be accomplished by the preaching of the Gospel. When “a nation may be born in a day,” and the suddenness and magnitude of that work be accomplished as it was, in circumstances so unfavourable, and on subjects so unpromising — this should rebuke the incredulity with which we are too apt to regard any general awakening or remarkable revival among ourselves.

Perhaps it may be thought that we are not entitled to expect the same or similar results from the preaching of the Gospel in modern times. It may seem that, as the age of miracles is past, and as we are now left to the ministry of uninspired men, it would be unreasonable, if not presumptuous, to anticipate any such remarkable success as attended the preaching of the apostles on the day of Pentecost. But why? Isn’t the Gospel still mighty through God? Isn’t the Spirit of God a permanent agent in the Christian Church? And was it not by the Word and Spirit that the three thousand were converted at Pentecost? It’s true, there was a miraculous gift of tongues. But it was not the miracle; it was the truth applied to the heart by the Spirit, which effected the great and sudden change — the miracle made them wonder — the miracle prompted some to mock, saying, “These men are full of new wine.” But it was the truth that pricked their hearts, and led them to inquire, “Men and brethren, what must we do?” And it was the truth which converted them, when they “gladly received the Word.” So that, the real cause of their conversion was the gracious internal operation of the Spirit, by which “He opened their eyes, and turned them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God.”

And that same agency which was put forth on the day of Pentecost, is continued with the Christian Church, and is in fact exerted in its enlightening, convincing, and saving power, on the mind and heart of every sinner who is, or ever will be, converted and saved. And if in the primitive Church, the Spirit was pleased to exert His agency in various ways — sometimes calling individuals singly, and adding them one by one to the fellowship of the Church, as in the case of Lydia, Paul, and the jailer at Philippi; — and at other times awakening a multitude at once, as in the case of the three thousand on the day of Pentecost — it is not unreasonable to expect that there may be a similar diversity in the mode of his operation in modern times. And if He is pleased ordinarily to bless a stated ministry for the gradual gathering of his sheep, then he may occasionally, when it seems appropriate to his infinite wisdom, effect a more sudden and general awakening.

The sudden and simultaneous conversion of many souls, and the daily and gradual increase of the Church by successive single additions to their number, are both mentioned in the narrative. For after recording the conversion of the three thousand, it is said, “And the Lord added to the Church daily those who should be saved.”

But in considering the result of this memorable work of grace, we must take into view not merely the numbers who were converted, but also the subsequent life and habits of the converts. They underwent a complete and permanent change of mind and heart — a change so great that they might well be called “new creatures, in whom old things had passed away, and all things had become new.” For in the short but comprehensive narrative before us, several expressions occur which will be found, when considered attentively, to exhibit a beautiful exemplification of the nature and magnitude of that change, and the peaceable fruits of righteousness which invariably spring from it.

Their change properly consisted in their believing “the truth as it is in Jesus;” for it is said that after Peter’s sermon, “Those who gladly received his word were baptized,” — clearly intimating, that faith in the divine testimony concerning Christ was the turning point of their conversion, and their qualification for being recognised and admitted as members of the Christian Church. Formerly they were unbelievers — they had rejected, condemned, and crucified the Lord of glory because, through blind ignorance and inveterate prejudice, they refused to receive him as “the Messiah that had been promised to the fathers.” And therefore they concluded that as a deceiver of the people, he was “worthy of death.” But now, convinced by the apostle’s testimony, and the concurrent attestation of God in the miraculous gift of tongues — they believed that the “same Jesus whom they had crucified, was both LORD and CHRIST.” And instructed in the gracious message which he had commissioned his apostles to proclaim, even the message of “repentance and remission of sin,” they gladly received it as the very Gospel of their salvation, and glad tidings of great joy. Thereby they evinced their deep conviction of sin and danger, and at the same time, their self-application of the Gospel, as a message sent from God to them. And by this simple faith, they entered on a new spiritual state. For “whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ” — and a Christ to himself — “is born of God.”

But this faith produced much fruit. It was not the inert speculative faith of which the apostle James speaks when he says, “Faith by itself, is dead.” Nor was their gladness in receiving the word, like the evanescent (fleeting) excitement of those “who hear the word, and quickly receive it with joy, but have no root in themselves, and endure only for a while.” On the contrary, the good seed of the word, well-rooted in their hearts, sprung up and produced fruit in their lives. For they “continued steadfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers;” — “and continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they ate their food with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God and having favour with all the people.”

The continuance of their religious impressions, the constancy of their profession, and their perseverance and advancement in the Christian course, are specially mentioned here, along with their diligent use of all the means of grace, as marks of the genuine nature of that change which they had so suddenly experienced. And this should be seriously considered by all, but especially by those who are conscious of having been occasionally impressed by divine truth, and who may be able to remember some seasons when they were deeply affected by it — yet notwithstanding, there is no evidence of a permanent change, and no symptom of growing advancement. Of the three classes of unproductive hearers mentioned by our Lord himself, two are represented as experiencing some transitory and evanescent change of feeling. For “the one who received the seed into stony places” is represented as “hearing the word, and quickly receiving it with joy; but having no root in himself, he endures for a while; when tribulation or persecution arises because of the word, by and by he is offended.” And also the one who received seed among the thorns, is represented as “hearing the word; but the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful.” Occasional impressions and transitory emotions are not enough. Many have perished in their sins, who were often and deeply impressed. And the Lord himself has forewarned us that the one, and only that one, “who endures to the end shall be saved.” This is the first feature of genuine conversion which is represented to us here — I mean the permanent and abiding power of religious principle in the heart.

Another feature of their case is the public profession which they made of their faith in Christ, and obedience to him, by submitting to be baptized in his name. They made this profession in very trying circumstances. For not only did their baptism amount to a confession that the same Jesus whom they had crucified as a malefactor, was indeed the Lord of glory; and to a virtual acknowledgment of their own guilt, and the guilt of their rulers in condemning him to death — but it pledged them to the maintenance and defence of his cause in a city where there were many scoffers. And it was at a time when they had reason to apprehend the bitterest opposition and trial. Yet they now consent to be publicly baptized in his name, in the very streets of Jerusalem which had resounded with the fearful cry, Crucify him, crucify him! — a cry which their voices had helped to raise. And this consideration also deserves to be seriously weighed by those who are prevented by shame or fear from avouching Christ as their Lord — weighed along with his own solemn declaration, “Whoever is ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of man will also be ashamed of him, when He comes in the glory of his Father with his holy angels.”

Another interesting feature of their character is their steady desire for instruction, and their regular attendance at ordinances. In the case of young converts, especially when their conversion has been suddenly effected, and accompanied with remarkable manifestations of divine power, there has sometimes been observed a presumptuous neglect of the ordinary means of grace, and a disrelish for the common exercises of Christian worship. Whether it proceeds from undue excitement, or from spiritual pride, this is alike injurious to their own peace, and to the comfort of their fellow-disciples. How different is the spirit and conduct of the primitive disciples, converted as they had been by the preaching of inspired apostles, and in circumstances which evinced the signal interposition of God. They didn’t feel as if they had no more need of instruction, nor as if they were independent of the common ordinances of the Church: “They continued steadfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers.” They united with all who professed the same faith, and shared with them in the usual exercises by which the glory of God was promoted, and the edification of the Church was advanced. They continued “in the apostles’ doctrine,” listening to their instructions, and adhering to the faith as it was taught by them — and “in the apostles’ fellowship,” not separating themselves, but preserving the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace — in breaking bread, uniting with their fellow disciples in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper — and in the secret and social exercise of prayer and praise. [75]

Another interesting feature of their case is the spirit of brotherly love and mutual charity which then prevailed in the Church at Jerusalem. Faith works by love — love being the sum of God’s law, and the substance of all acceptable obedience. And the operation of faith, in producing a spirit of love, is most beautifully exemplified in the case before us. It is said, “And all who believed were together, and had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods, and apportioned them to all men, as every man had need.” There was no law to this effect: it was the spontaneous fruit of their love to Christ, and to each other — probably prompted by the consideration that many among them were strangers at Jerusalem, and needed the accommodations and supplies which the wealthier brethren could afford. The apostles never sought to abrogate the right of property, nor to inculcate the duty of having all things in common, as has sometimes been supposed, and more recently maintained by a class of men calling themselves Socialists.[76] They maintain that the three cardinal evils of society in modern times, are the belief in a God, the institution of marriage, and the right of private property. They propose to abolish and sweep them all away, in order to introduce a new social order — a new moral world — in which religion will be exchanged for Atheism, and marriage for indiscriminate licence, and all personal rights for a community of goods. These horrible principles — fast spreading, we fear, among the neglected and uneducated poor, and undermining the foundations of our oldest and most revered institutions — are so flagrantly opposed to the truths of the Bible, that so long as the Bible is believed, they must be repudiated and condemned. But anxious to avail themselves of any seeming support which they may draw from the sacred volume, some have not hesitated to represent that part of their system, which consists in the abolition of private property, and the institution of a community of goods, is exemplified in the case of the primitive Christians who, after the day of Pentecost, “had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods, and apportioned them to all men, as every man had need.”

But it is clear that the apostles did not mean to abrogate the rights of property, for it is expressly said that they sold their goods, thereby conveying to others the right which they had previously possessed; and it appears from the case of Ananias and Sapphira, that they were not constrained by any imperative rule to part with them even for this purpose. Peter said to them, “Why has Satan filled yours heart to lie to the Holy Ghost, and to keep back part of the price of the Land? While it remained, was it not your own? And after it was sold, was it not in your own power?” — clearly intimating that there was no such community of goods among them, as is now contended for, and no constraint on the exercise of their charity. But this only shows more clearly the fervour and strength of that disinterested love which prompted them of their own accord, to sacrifice their wealth for the support and comfort of their poorer brethren. And it exhibits to us a beautiful example of self-denying charity, which it would be well for us to imitate; so that now as then, the world might be constrained to say, ‘‘Behold these Christians, how they love one another!”

But why was there so much love in the infant Church at Jerusalem? Our Lord explains the reason, when speaking of the “woman who was a sinner from the city, who stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with ointment.” He said, “Her sins, which were many, are forgiven her, for she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.’’ The three thousand who were converted on the day of Pentecost were chargeable with the great sin of crucifying the Son of God. They had much forgiven them; and according to the principle explained by the Lord, they loved much. There is no such instance of human love recorded in the whole Bible, as that of the Church at Jerusalem, which was composed of men stained with the blood of Jesus; and by that same blood, they were washed from their sins!

Another feature in their case, was the consistency of their conduct and the beauty of their example, which produced a deep impression on the public mind — one that was in no small degree favourable to the cause of the Gospel.

“And continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they ate their food with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favour with all the people. And the Lord added to the Church daily those who should be saved.”

We are here taught to consider their consistent, cheerful, and devoted conduct as a means of conciliating the favour of the people, and promoting the success of the Gospel itself. And their mutual concord and happy fellowship together, are specially noticed as conducive to this effect. Oh! I would to God that we enjoyed the same concord, and were imbued with the same spirit; and that all the sincere disciples of Christ could live together in unity. Then we might hope that our faith and love, and catholic union, would produce a favourable impression on the public mind. It’s not that the world’s enmity would be destroyed; for notwithstanding the favour with which the primitive Church was regarded for a time, that enmity soon broke out in open persecution. And it is impossible to conciliate the world, until the world is itself converted. But the absence of all strife and divisions, and the prevalence of love and peace in the Church itself, would give it a favourable opportunity to direct its whole energy to the conversion of the world; while the exhibition of all Christian graces on the part of Christ’s people, would make its own impression on the mind of every spectator.

For thus it was at the beginning: ‘‘Fear came upon every soul;” and “they had favour with all the people;” “and the Lord added to the Church daily those who should be saved.”

CHAPTER 9. Revivals.

Acts 21.21.

The greatest work that is going on in the world, is that of the conversion of sinners, and the edification of saints.

Sometimes this work proceeds slowly and silently under the stated ministry of the Word; one after another being secretly impressed with the power of divine truth, and taken under the teaching of God’s Spirit, and “built up in faith, and holiness, and comfort unto eternal life.” At other times it is accomplished in a more extraordinary and remarkable way — vast numbers being brought suddenly under the power of divine truth, and exhibiting in a striking manner, the effects of divine grace.

We’ve been so accustomed to look to the slower, quieter, and more gradual method of maintaining and extending the kingdom of Christ, that we are apt to be startled, and even to listen with some degree of incredulous surprise, when we hear of any sudden and general work of the Spirit of God. Indeed, we cease even to expect or to pray for any more remarkable, or more rapid change in the state of the Church and world, than what is usually observed under a regular ministry.

But “God’s ways are not as our ways, nor are his thoughts as our thoughts.” And often in the history of his Church, He has been pleased for wise reasons, to manifest his grace and power in a very extraordinary and remarkable manner. This is partly to awaken and arouse a slumbering Church; partly also, to alarm and convince naysayers; and most of all, to teach them at once the sovereignty and the power of that grace which they are too prone to despise.

When any real revival of the power of true religion takes place in any country — however local and temporary, provided only that some immortal souls are thereby savingly converted — we have reason to know that such an event, however it may be ridiculed by the world, is the occasion of joy to the angels in the upper sanctuary, and also of unmingled satisfaction to the Redeemer himself. If we have anything of the same spirit, such an event will be an occasion of joy to ourselves. And in many ways, it is indeed fitted to confirm our wavering faith, to animate our flagging zeal, to add energy to our lukewarm prayers, and to strength to our languid hopes. Wherever God’s power and glory are remarkably displayed, it is alike the duty and the privilege of his Church to behold and adore it. And surely, if it is the ground of much rejoicing among the angels before the throne, it should also engage the praises of the Christian brotherhood on earth.

The Bible speaks of “times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord” (Act 3.19) — seasons of remarkable revival which should occur long after the days of the apostles. And it records several memorable examples which occurred both under the Old and the New Testament dispensations, to which we may briefly advert, with the view of showing that such revivals are expressly recognised in the Word of God.

It is probable that when it is said of those who lived in the days of Seth, “Men began to call upon the name of the Lord,” there is an allusion to some general revival of religion which occurred before the deluge. But we have a more particular account of a very general and remarkable revival in the times of Joshua. Of the whole generation which entered with him into the promised land, we read, “The people served the Lord all the days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders that outlived Joshua, who had seen all the great works of the Lord, that he did for Israel.” But when “all that generation were gathered to their fathers, there arose another generation after them, which did not know the Lord, nor yet the works which he had done for Israel: and the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord.’’ Several circumstances are recorded in the sacred narrative, which show that under the ministry of Joshua, there was a very deep spirit of earnest religion among the people, and that it exerted a wide and extensive influence. The nation acted as one man, and in a spirit of devoted piety, when “the whole congregation of the children of Israel assembled together at Shiloh, and set up the tabernacle of the congregation there; and the land was subdued before them.” Again, when “all Israel, and their elders, and officers and judges stood on this side of the ark and on that side,” while “Joshua read all the words of the law, the blessings and cursings, according to all that is written in the book of the law; there was not a word of all that Moses commanded which Joshua did not read before all the congregation of Israel, with the women and the little ones, and the strangers that were conversant among them.”

And so it was, when “all Israel stoned Achan with stones, and burned him with fire, for his trespass in the accursed thing;” and when “the whole congregation of the children of Israel gathered themselves together to Shiloh,” to go up to war against the two and a half tribes, on the first suspicion of their falling into idolatry. Such a general and lively zeal on behalf of God’s service indicates a deep and prevailing sense of religion; and it is interesting to reflect on the means by which this had been produced. We are told that the Israelites who came out of Egypt with Moses were a stiff-necked and rebellious people; but none of these entered into the promised land, except Joshua and Caleb. They all died in the wilderness; and it was their children- — children born and bred in the wilderness — who afterwards exhibited so much of the power of religion on their hearts. And their religious earnestness and zeal may be ascribed to three things: first, that they had seen the wonderful works of the Lord, the miracles which He wrought in the wilderness, and the remarkable fulfilment of his word; secondly, that from their earliest years, they had received a wilderness education — being trained from their childhood in hardships and trials, which taught them their entire dependence on God, and the duty of an absolute submission to his sovereign will; thirdly, that they had heard the reading of God’s law, and were acquainted with its glorious truths. These were suitable and appropriate means. But the experience of their fathers shows that, of themselves, neither the hardships nor the miracles of the wilderness would have produced true religion — that depends on the blessing of the Spirit of God.

Another remarkable season of the revival of true religion occurs in the history of the Kings. When Shaphan read the book of the law before Josiah,

“It came to pass, when the king had heard the words of the Book of the Law, that he tore his clothes. And the king commanded the priests and scribes, and other officers, ‘Go, inquire of the Lord for me, and for the people, and for all Judah, concerning the words of this book which was found. For great is the wrath of the Lord that is kindled against us, because our fathers have not hearkened to the words of this book, to do according to all that which is written concerning us.’”

The king’s concern for his people was now remarkably displayed: he knew that they were exposed to God’s wrath, and dreaded the judgments with which they were threatened. And immediately,

“He sent and gathered to him all the elders of Judah and of Jerusalem. And the king went up into the house of the Lord, and all the men of Judah, and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem with him, and the priests, and the prophets, and all the people, both small and great: and he read in their ears all the words of the book of the covenant which was found in the house of the Lord. And the king stood by a pillar, and made a covenant before the Lord, to walk after the Lord, and to keep his commandments and his testimonies and his statutes, with all their heart and all their soul, to perform the words of this covenant that were written in this book. And all the people stood to the covenant.” (2Kng 23.1-3)

Then followed a great national reformation. As we read in the sequel to the same chapter, the vessels that had been made for Baal and the host of heaven were burnt; idolatrous priests were suppressed; the houses of the Sodomites were broken down; Tophet was defiled, in which children were made to pass through the fire to Molech (2Kng 23.10); the horses and chariots which had been given to the service of the Sun, were taken away or destroyed; the idolatrous altars of the kings of Judah were overthrown; the high places which Solomon had built were not spared; the images were broken in pieces, and the groves cut down; Jeroboam’s altar at Bethel was overturned; the offending priests were cut off, according to the national law. And then there followed a great convocation — a solemn general assembly to keep the Passover — of which it is said, “Surely there was not held such a Passover from the days of the Judges that judged Israel, nor in all the days of the kings of Israel, nor of the kings of Judah.” And of himself it is said, “Before him, there was no king like him, who turned to the Lord with all heart, and with all his soul, and with all his might, according to all the law of Moses; nor after him did any arise like him.” (v. 25)

Some other similar instances of a revival of the power of religion among the people of Israel might be mentioned: such as that which took place under king Asa, and also under king Hezekiah; and the remarkable change that was wrought on the hearts of the captives at Babylon, and by which they were prepared for their restoration to their own land. It was a change which occurred chiefly among the younger Jews who were left, since their fathers had died in captivity — just as formerly the younger generation was impressed in the wilderness. Ezra says of them, “Now for a little space, grace has been shown from the Lord our God; to leave us a remnant to escape, and to give us a stake in his holy place; that our God may enlighten our eyes, and give us a little reviving in our bondage.” And there are many passages in the Old Testament (Psa 85; 102.13-22) which are beautifully descriptive of the spiritual revivals which occurred from time to time under the Jewish dispensation.

In many other passages of the Old Testament (Isa 52.7; 54.1-5; Eze 36.25; Hos 14.4; Joe 2.28) we find predictions of great and general revivals of religion, which would occur under the new and better dispensation to which the faith of the Jewish Church looked forward. And accordingly, in the New Testament we read the authentic account of the most remarkable revival of true religion that has ever occurred in the history of the world. It was, as it were, “life from the dead.” A new impulse was then given to the world, the force of which is felt, and its effects witnessed, at the present day. It was not a new religion that was then introduced, but a completion of that which had been revealed from the beginning — the visible fulfilment of God’s word of promise, and a clearer manifestation of His grace and truth. Amidst the general defection of the Jewish Church and nation, there were some hidden ones, who cherished a sincere and devoted piety, and waited for the hope and consolation of Israel. And these were revived and refreshed by the ministry of John the Baptist, and still more by the manifestation of the Son of God. Multitudes of careless sinners were converted. And although the work might have seemed to be suspended by the crucifixion of the Lord of glory, that event only prepared the way for a more remarkable outpouring of the Spirit of God, and a more general awakening among the nations. Jews and Gentiles — men of all nations and of various languages — were suddenly arrested, convinced, converted, and became Christian missionaries to spread the glorious Gospel over the whole world. No sooner had the Spirit of God descended in his miraculous gifts on the apostles, than he also descended in His saving grace upon their hearers — insomuch that on the day of Pentecost, three thousand souls were converted by a single sermon.

Oh! let those who doubt the power of God’s Word and Spirit, or who are conscious of a latent jealousy and distrust respecting any remarkable and sudden work of conversion, consider that case which stands recorded in the Word of God. And let them listen to the question of the prophet — “Oh! you who are named the house of Jacob; is the Spirit of the Lord restricted?” — “Is his hand shortened, that it cannot save; is his ear heavy, that it cannot hear?” Nor is the great work of conversion on the day of Pentecost a solitary instance in the New Testament. Great multitudes believed in other places — the Lord “added to the Church daily, those who should be saved.” And in Athens, and Rome, and Corinth; in Galatia, Asia, Cappadocia, and Bithynia; in the most primitive, and the most refined places — the preaching of the apostles was mighty through God, and was felt to be the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation. Follow one of the apostles through the various scenes of his labours — trace his course on the deep, and his journeys by land. Suppose yourself to be a companion of Paul, and a witness of the scenes which he saw, of the converts whom he gathered, and the churches which he founded, and which long existed as monuments and memorials of his successful labours. And could you then doubt that the preaching of the Gospel, accompanied by the power of the Spirit, is sufficient to revolutionize the world — to overturn the kingdom of darkness, and to erect on its ruins that kingdom of God which consists in righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost?

While such was the experience of the Church of God, both under the Old and the New Testament dispensations, it remains to inquire how far we are entitled to expect the same or similar results, from the preaching of the Gospel in modern times. It might seem that, being far removed from the age of miracles, and being left (so far as the use of means is concerned) to depend on the mere preaching of the Word, it would be unreasonable, if not presumptuous, for us to anticipate any such remarkable success as attended the preaching of the apostles on the day of Pentecost. Yet there are some weighty considerations applicable to this question, which may serve to abate the supposed improbability of such an expectation. In the first place, there are many prophecies which predict, many promises which ensure, the progressive advancement and the ultimate universality of the Gospel:

“Ask of me,” says the Father to his beloved Son, “and I will give you the heathen for your heritage, and the uttermost parts of the earth for your possession.” — “In you, and in your seed,” He said to Abraham, “shall all the families of the earth be blessed.” “There will be a handful of corn in the earth upon the top of the mountains; the fruit of it will shake like Lebanon: and those of the city will flourish like grass of the earth. His name shall endure for ever: his name shall be continued as long as the sun: and men shall be blessed in him: all nations shall call him blessed.” — “The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.” — “For I would not have you, brethren, ignorant of this mystery, lest you be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part has happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles have come in. And so all Israel shall be saved; as it is written, The Deliverer shall come out of Zion, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob.”

These passages which declare the progressive advancement, and ensure the ultimate universality of the Gospel, imply that the work of conversion is to be carried on in the Church of Christ — a work which is to be accomplished instrumentally by the preaching of the Gospel, and applied with power to the heart and conscience by the direct operation of the Holy Ghost. Every soul that is successively added to the Church, those who shall be saved, must be enlightened, convinced, subdued, and converted by precisely the same agency which was put forth on the day of Pentecost. If the Gospel, even when it was declared by inspired men, and accompanied with the signs of God’s miraculous interposition, depended for its converting power and its saving efficacy, on the grace of that divine Spirit who “apportioning to every man severally as he will,” then how much more now, when it is proclaimed by men who are alike destitute of the light of inspiration and the power of miracles?

It is a matter both of prediction and promise, that the gracious operation of the Spirit of God was to be continued with the Christian Church, and to be effectual to the end of time for the conversion of sinners and the sanctification of his people. Many are apt to suppose that, because the miraculous gifts of tongues, and healing, and prophecy, have long since ceased in the Christian Church, the agency of the Spirit of God has been discontinued — forgetting that what is in reality the most valuable part of the Spirit’s work is permanent, and will be carried on till the end of time. The work of conversion, by which sinners are turned from darkness to light, and the work of sanctification, by which they are gradually prepared for glory, is as much the fruit of the Spirit as was the inspiration of the apostles. And these must be continued until the whole company of the redeemed has been gathered in from among all people, and tongues, and nations. So, far from having discontinued his gracious agency, the Spirit of God is at work in every congregation — in every soul who is deriving spiritual benefit from his Word. And we live in these latter times under a dispensation which is emphatically “the ministration of the Spirit.” Before the miraculous gifts of the Spirit were bestowed on the day of Pentecost, His agency, as the Sanctifier of God’s people, was felt in the Church, and acknowledged by the sacred writers of the Old Testament. And surely, if He was known in His enlightening and sanctifying influence by the Old Testament Church, then it cannot be supposed that the Church under a new and better dispensation will be deprived of His gracious presence — especially when we find that one of the greatest blessings that was predicted and promised to the Church in later times, was an outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

Referring to New Testament times, Isaiah says, “The palaces shall be forsaken ... until the spirit is poured out upon us from on high;” — and Joel, “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh;” — which is expressly applied to the New Testament Church in the Acts of the Apostles. And accordingly the sacred writers in all their epistles refer to the ordinary gracious work of the Spirit as a matter of experience with every true believer, even with those who had no miraculous gifts. It was their prayer for all believers that “the communion of the Holy Ghost,” not less than “the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God,” should be with them all (2Cor 13.14). Indeed, it is solemnly declared that everyone who would be converted to the end of time, must be converted by the Spirit — that every soul that would be born again, should be born of the Spirit. And to say, then, that the gracious operations of the Spirit of God have ceased in the Christian Church, would be virtually to declare that the work of conversion is finished — that the gate of heaven is now closed — that not one soul can now be added to the Church of those who shall be saved. For it is clear that “unless a man is born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” And it is equally clear that if he is born again, he must be “born of the Spirit.”

The renewing and sanctifying agency of the Spirit of God, then, has not ceased in the Christian Church; nor will it ever cease until the last convert has been won, the last penitent restored. The continued agency of the Spirit of God in the Church, under the present dispensation, which is emphatically called “the ministration of the Spirit,’’ is a doctrine which teaches us to expect great results from the faithful preaching of the Gospel. And it is, in fact, the sheet-anchor of the Gospel ministry — it is their sole encouragement to persevere in an otherwise hopeless effort to evangelize and regenerate the world. Take away the grace of the Holy Spirit — expunge those passages from the Bible which contain the promise of his enlightening, renewing, and converting grace — and you leave us with none but natural means to accomplish a supernatural work; — you leave us to convert enmity into love, to quicken the dead to life, and to raise a fallen world to heaven, by our mere persuasion and importunity. Then, indeed, our hopes would be enthusiastic, our expectations visionary, and our aims abortive. But leave with us the promise which God has given; grant that the Gospel is an instrument in his hands, and that the Holy Spirit is the ever-living and ever-active Teacher and Sanctifier of souls — and then, in the strength of this truth, we can face all difficulties and rise above all discouragement; we can stand unmoved amidst the mockery of the world. We can preach the Gospel with confidence of ultimate success, both to Greek and barbarian — to savage and to civilized men — for the Gospel is adapted to every human heart; and the Spirit of God has power to make it effectual; and this promise stands on record forever: “He will give the Spirit to those who ask him.”

It being admitted, then, that the real and active agency of the Spirit of God for the conversion of souls may reasonably be expected in the Christian Church, the only question which remains to be considered is whether that divine agent will always act in one uniform method, quietly and gradually extending the kingdom of Christ by the successive conversion of individual sinners, as for the most part He usually does — or whether he may not, for wise reasons, and in the exercise of that sovereignty which belongs to him, act occasionally in a more extraordinary and remarkable way, turning multitudes at once, and perhaps suddenly, from darkness to light, and bringing about a general revival of the power of religion in particular places and congregations? In other words, may we reasonably believe and expect that the Spirit of God will occasionally produce a remarkable religious revival?

That we may proceed to the calm and impartial consideration of this question, it may be useful, first of all, to obviate and remove some prejudices which might either prevent us from entertaining it at all, or unfit us for deciding it aright.

It is of great importance to form a clear and definite idea of what is meant by a revival of religion: it properly consists in these two things — a general impartation of new life, vigour, and power to those who are already of the number of God’s people; and a remarkable awakening and conversion of souls who have, till then, been careless and unbelieving. In other words, it consists in new spiritual life imparted to the dead, and in new spiritual health imparted to the living.

A revival properly consists in one or both of these two things — a revived state of religion among the members of the Church, and the increase of their number by the addition of souls converted to God. Can it be doubted by any professing Christian, either that such a revival is possible, or that it is desirable? Why, what is the end of the Gospel ministry? What the great design of our Sabbaths and our sanctuaries? What is the purpose of all Gospel promises in reference to the kingdom of grace? Is it not that those souls who have, till then, been “dead in trespasses and sins,” may be quickened into spiritual life? And that those souls who have already been quickened into life, may grow in spiritual health and vigour, and be revived and restored, when they have fallen into declension and decay? Do we not all pray for these things? And isn’t it our privilege to expect that our prayers for these things will be heard and answered?

The simultaneous conversion of many souls, and the increasing power of true religion in the hearts of God’s people, are the constituent elements of a religious revival. And these two effects of the Spirit’s grace, while they may be wrought separately, are nevertheless found when they are wrought together, to exert a powerful reciprocal influence on each other. Sometimes under a Gospel ministry, the faith, and love, and zeal of a Christian Church are revived and strengthened, without being immediately accompanied with any remarkable awakening of careless sinners. At other times, many successive conversions are wrought one after another, while the general tone of Christian piety is not observably raised or strengthened. But when at one and the same time, believers are invigorated with new strength, and many careless sinners are converted, there is a powerful reciprocal influence exerted on each by the experience of the other. Decaying and backsliding Christians are aroused and reclaimed, when they see God’s power exerted in the conversion of sinners. They feel that there is a reality and a vital energy in God’s truth — that Christ lives and reigns — that the Spirit is still present with the Church; and they are excited to greater earnestness in prayer, to greater devotedness of heart, and to greater holiness of life. At the same time, their reawakened zeal, and their fervent prayers, fit them for exerting a holier influence over others, and may be the means of adding many to the Church of those who should be saved. Thus it was on the day of Pentecost. On that remarkable occasion, it is recorded that “fear came upon every soul;” and the result was that “the Lord added to the Church daily those who should be saved.”

It is of great practical importance to observe, that the work of the Spirit on the soul of every individual convert, is substantially the same as that which takes place in a general revival of religion (except on a more extended scale). When many are suddenly arrested and convinced — when conversions take place in large numbers, attended with remarkable circumstances — the work of the Spirit attracts more public attention, and produces a larger measure of excitement. But it is substantially the self-same work which has often been carried on in silence, in the secret chamber, in the retired recesses of the heart — when one poor sinner in a congregation has been singled out from a multitude of careless professors, and made the subject of a saving change. It doesn’t matter whether a man passes from death unto life in solitude or in society — whether he ventures alone to the mercy-seat, or is accompanied there by a multitude of earnest suppliants — whether the light of heaven shines in upon his soul, leaving others in darkness, or shines at the same time into the hearts of thousands more. The same change which was wrought on the three thousand converts of Pentecost, also took place in the spirit of Lydia when she worshipped with a few other women by the riverside; and in the spirit of the Philippian jailer when he stood alone with the apostles.

One may be converted at a time, or many; but the work of conversion is the same in all. Every soul in a general revival, must be enlightened by divine truth, and awakened to concern about his salvation — and melted into godly sorrow for sin — and stirred up to lay hold on Christ and his free salvation — and imbued with new views, new affections, new desires, new tastes, new hopes, new habits. In a word, every such soul that passes from death unto life, in a season of general awakening, must pass through the same general experience which, on other occasions, is realized by the solitary inquirer — when in his secret chamber, he thinks, and repents, and believes, and prays, and enters into peace with God. No one, therefore, who has experienced that great change in his own soul — who has known what it is to be awakened to concern about his own salvation — who has wept and prayed in secret, and earnestly read his Bible, and has drunk in the precious truths of the Gospel — ought to feel any jealousy concerning a general revival of true religion. On the contrary, he should regard it with such feelings as befit the occasion — the feeling of hope and expectation, that some great good will be accomplished — the feeling of gratitude and joy, that new manifestations and proofs of the Saviour’s power are granted — and the feeling of solemn awe, arising from the thought that God is interposing — that immortal souls are being born again — and that these souls are now undergoing all that solemn conviction, and feeling all those anxious fears, and are impressed with all those awful views of God and judgment and eternity, which he himself had experienced when he first repented, and wept, and prayed, and wrestled for his own salvation.

The Holy Spirit is not limited to any one mode of operation in the execution of his glorious work. And his sovereignty should ever be remembered when we are considering a subject of this nature. This has unfortunately been too overlooked, when — with undue partiality and confidence (we think) — some have insisted on a general and remarkable revival as being the best manifestation of the Spirit’s grace, and in all cases, a matter of promise to believing prayer; and others have looked to the quiet and gradual success of the Gospel ministry, to the exclusion (or at least to the disparagement) of any more sudden and remarkable work of grace. The former have given too exclusive a preference to what is extraordinary and striking, while the latter have fallen into the opposite error of preferring what is more usual and quiet. We think it would be better to admit both methods of conversion, and to leave the choice to the sovereign wisdom and grace of the Spirit. It is equally possible for him to convert souls successively or simultaneously; and in adopting either course, doubtless He has wise ends in view. We have no sympathy with those who, overlooking the steady progress of the great work of conversion under a stated ministry, take no account of the multitudes who are added, one by one, to the Church of the living God, merely because their conversion has not been attended with the outward manifestations of a great religious revival. Nor can we agree with them in thinking that the Church has any sure warrant to expect that the Spirit will be bestowed in every instance, in that particular way. But we have as little sympathy with those who, rejecting all revivals as unscriptural delusions, profess to look exclusively to the gradual progress of divine truth, and the slow advance of individual conversion under a stated ministry. Both methods — the simultaneous, and the successive conversion of souls — are equally within the power of the Spirit. And there may exist wise reasons why, in certain cases, the first should be chosen, while in other cases, the second is preferred.

Several important purposes may be promoted by the sudden and simultaneous conversion of many souls, and the concurrent revival of Christian congregations. And this either could not be attained at all, or not to the same extent, by the more ordinary and gradual progress of the Gospel. A season of general awakening affords to both believers and unbelievers, a new and very impressive proof of the reality and power of the Spirit’s grace — it strengthens the faith, and enlarges the hopes of God’s people — it awakens those nominal professors who are at ease in Zion, and it alarms and arouses the consciences of the irreligious multitude. For when many are suddenly arrested by the power of the Spirit, and turned from the error of their ways, and made to break off their sins by repentance, and are seen flying to Christ like doves to their windows, the mind of every spectator must be impressed with a sense of the reality and importance of religion, and the most ungodly for a time will tremble.

Such a season of revival may be designed to manifest in an extraordinary way, the continued presence and the active agency of the Holy Spirit — to demonstrate the faithfulness of God in fulfilling the promises of his Word — to evince the efficacy of believing prayer — to teach the Church the weakness of human instruments, and the true source of all spiritual power — to quicken her faith and hope when, through manifold trials and increasing difficulties, she might be ready to faint and be discouraged, as if the task of regenerating the world had been left to be accomplished by inadequate resources — to stir her to greater efforts in a spirit of lively faith and humble dependence — and to afford new evidence to succeeding generations, that Christ is the exalted Head of the Church, and that all power is still given to Him in heaven and on earth.

These are some of the important practical lessons which may be taught by such seasons of revival in the Church. Such lessons might be deduced from the more ordinary operations of the Spirit under the regular ministry of the Word. But they are more prominently presented, and more impressively enforced, when in the exercise of His adored sovereignty, the Spirit of God, instead of descending like “dew on the grass,” comes like “showers which water the earth,” or like “floods on the dry ground.” And if these or similar ends may be promoted by such means, who will say that they may not be employed by Him who is “wise in counsel, and excellent in working,” and of whom it is written, “There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are differences of administrations, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God who works all in all.” — “One and the self-same Spirit works all these, apportioning to every man severally as he will.”

Such seasons of general religious revival as occurred at the feast of Pentecost, were to be expected in subsequent times. This appears from those promises of Scripture which relate to “times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.” These assure the continued presence of Christ and his Spirit with the Church in all ages; and they declare that “when the enemy comes in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him.” And that such seasons of revival have occurred at intervals along the whole line of the Church’s history, is a fact which is amply confirmed by historical evidence, and sufficient to obviate any prejudice arising from the idea that such an event is novel or unprecedented.

The history of the collective Church resembles the experience of individual believers in many respects, and chiefly in this: that in both, there occur seasons of growth and decay, of progress and declension, each bearing a resemblance to the course of nature, with its spring and winter, its seedtime and harvest.

Thus, in the great Reformation of the sixteenth century, a reformation occurred in the outward state of the Church, which had its source and spring in a revival of religion in the hearts of a few chosen men, when simultaneously in Germany, and Switzerland, and Britain, the Holy Spirit said, “Let there be light, and there was light.”

“As in spring time, the breath of life is felt from the seashore to the mountain top, so the Spirit of God was now melting the ice of a long winter in every part of Christendom, and clothing with verdure [77] and flowers the most secluded valleys, and the steepest and most barren rocks. Germany did not communicate the light of truth to Switzerland, Switzerland to France, France to England; all these lands received it from God — just as no one region transmits sunlight to another, but the same orb of splendour dispenses it directly to the earth. Raised far above men, Christ — the Daystar from on high — was at the period of the Reformation, as He was at the first introduction of the Gospel, the divine source from which came the life of the world. One and the same doctrine suddenly established itself in the sixteenth century, at the domestic hearths, and in the places of worship, of the most distant and dissimilar nations. It was because the same Spirit was everywhere present, producing the same faith.” [78]

A series of local revivals on a more partial and limited scale, have occurred since the great general revival in the era of the Reformation.

From 1623 to 1641, there occurred a very remarkable revival of true religion in the province of Ulster, in Ireland, which was the germ of that Presbyterian Church which continues to bless that province to the present time. The inhabitants of Ulster were settlers drawn from England and Scotland, and planted there as a colony by King James. At first they were men of reckless and dissolute character, and “ripe for a great manifestation either of judgment or of mercy.” [79] In God’s good providence, some able and zealous ministers of the Gospel, being oppressed in Scotland and England, took refuge in Ireland — among them were the eminent Blair, and Livingstone, and Welsh. Such a remarkable blessing accompanied their preaching, that not only were many souls converted, but pure Gospel Churches were planted, and a Gospel discipline introduced. Not a few of the higher ranks were converted. And it is a memorable fact that the greatest success attended the preaching, not of the ablest and most prudent ministers, but of one whose gifts were weak, who knew little more than the terrors of the law, and who was “a man, it is said, who would never have been chosen by a wise assembly of ministers, nor sent to begin a reformation in the land. Yet this was the Lord’s choice, that all men might see that it was not by power, nor by might, not by man’s wisdom, but by my Spirit, says the Lord.” [80]

In 1625 a remarkable revival of religion occurred in the parish of Stewarton, chiefly through the instrumentality of the Rev. D. Dickson, minister of Irvine. He had but recently before been driven from his church by the Court of High Commission, and banished to the north of Scotland. But being restored in 1623, he was greatly blessed in his ordinary ministry. And having instituted a weekly lecture on the market-day, with a view to the benefit of those coming in from the country, he was enabled to cast the precious seed far and wide, so that it took deep root, and produced an abundant harvest, especially in the parish of Stewarton where the “revival spread from house to house for many miles along the valley.” Sometimes there would be upwards of a hundred waiting to converse with him in the manse after the lecture; and a complete change was wrought in the hearts and habits of a great number. This is attested not only by the venerable minister himself, but also by some eminent characters, such as Professor Blair, Principal Boyd, Lady Eglinton, Lady Robertland, and others who visited the scene and shared in the services.

In 1630 a very extraordinary revival occurred at the Kirk of Shotts in Lanarkshire. A number of ministers, then suffering under the persecution of the civil power, assisted at the dispensation of the Supper. And such was the interest felt in the solemn service, that the people expressed a desire to have a sermon on the Monday after the feast. Mr. John Livingstone, then a preacher of the Gospel, and chaplain to the Countess of Wigton, was requested to officiate. But when he was alone in the fields in the morning, he came under a sense of unworthiness and unfitness to speak before so many aged and worthy ministers, and eminent experienced Christians. He had such misgivings, that he was thinking of stealing away; and he was just about to lose sight of the kirk, when these words — “Was I ever a barren wilderness, or a land of darkness” — were brought to his mind with such an overcoming power, that it constrained him to think it his duty to return and comply with the call to preach. He preached accordingly from Eze 36.25 — “Then I will sprinkle clean water on you,” etc., — and he did so with such power, through the accompanying grace of the Spirit, “that about five hundred persons were converted, principally by means of this sermon.” This great revival was afterwards described as “the sowing of a seed through Clydesdale, so as many of the most eminent Christians in that country could date either their conversion, or some remarkable confirmation from it.”

In 1638, the same year in which the celebrated Assembly at Glasgow was held, a general revival of true religion commenced in the Church of Scotland, which has left its precious fruits as an inheritance to the present times — a revival not confined to particular districts, but extending over the whole Church, and influencing her judicatories as well as her congregations.

In 1734, a remarkable revival occurred in Northampton, and many other towns in New England, in North America, under the ministry of such men as President Edwards and David Brainerd, whose faithful narratives contain not only an authentic statement of facts, but many rich and instructive observations suggested by experience and observation.

In 1742, many parishes in Scotland were visited with times of refreshing. The parish of Cambuslang, near Glasgow, then under the pastoral charge of Mr. M’Culloch, was one of the first to be visited. After he had preached for about a year on the nature and necessity of regeneration, he was requested by about ninety heads of families to give them a weekly lecture. Prayer-meetings were formed; and one after another, and at length fifty in the same day, came to him in distress of mind. After this, such was their thirst for the Word of God, that he had to provide them a sermon almost daily. Even before the arrival of Mr. Whitefield, three hundred souls had been converted. When that eminent servant of God preached at the dispensation of the sacrament soon after, there were present about twenty-four ministers, and from thirty to forty thousand souls. Three thousand communicated at the tables, many of them from a great distance, who carried with them to their several homes, a savour of good things. And not fewer than four hundred, belonging to the parish, were enrolled in the minister’s lists as having been converted in that year.

In the same year, the parish of Kilsyth, then under the pastoral care of Mr. Robe, who had laboured for thirty years without any remarkable success, was visited first of all with violent fever, and afterwards with famine, without any salutary effect. The minister was greatly discouraged. But he took himself to prayer, and soon some symptoms of growing seriousness appeared, which rapidly ripened into a great spiritual revival. Sometimes thirty, sometimes forty were awakened in a week. In all there were about three hundred, whose subsequent life attested the sincerity of their conversion.

In the same year, we have authentic accounts of the sudden and simultaneous revival of religion in many other parishes — as in Baldernoch, where there was no stated minister at the time, but many were awakened through the labours of a pious schoolmaster — in Campsie, in Calder, in Kirkintilloch, in Cumbernauld, in Gargunnoch, and also in St Ninians, and in Muthill.

In 1794, a remarkable revival of religion occurred in various parishes of Wales, chiefly through the instrumentality of Mr. Charles of Bala. As early as 1649, soon after the Westminster Assembly, commissioners had been appointed by Parliament to supply the religious destitution of that neglected country. One hundred and fifty pious ministers were planted in its various counties, and good schoolmasters were appointed in every market-town, besides thirty preachers who were appointed to itinerate from place to place. Several eminent ministers were afterwards raised up, such as Mr. Hugh Owen, Mr. Thomas Gouge, Mr. Griffith Jones, Mr. Howel Harries, Mr. Daniel Rowlands, who successively devoted themselves to the salvation of the same interesting field, and often with great success. Whitefield testifies that the people thought nothing of coming twenty miles to hear a sermon, and that thousands were savingly impressed. Mr. Charles of Bala was himself one of the fruits of Mr. Rowlands’ ministry; and he devoted himself with a like zeal to the prosecution of the same glorious work. He instituted schools in every part of his wide circuit; and thousands, both old and young, received the Word with joy, while a general reformation was effected even among the careless and unconverted.

In 1798, a remarkable revival of true religion occurred in the parish of Moulin, then under the pastoral charge of the Rev. Alexander Stewart, afterwards one of the ministers of the Canongate.[81] In the interesting account which he has left of this event, he ingenuously confesses that he was himself ignorant of divine truth, at least in its saving power, for several years after he was ordained to the holy ministry; and that he was much perplexed when some persons, under concern for their souls, applied to him for advice. At length, through the writings of Newton and Scott, and the conversation and preaching of Mr. Simeon of Cambridge, who visited him in 1 796, he was brought to a knowledge of the truth. And immediately declaring what he had learned, a great impression was made on the minds of the people — insomuch that many nominal professors abstained of their own accord from going forward to the Lord’s table. Seldom a week passed without one, two, or three persons brought under deep concern, till he could count seventy souls as his, “crown of joy and rejoicing.”

In 1812, a great revival occurred in the island of Arran, under the ministry of the Rev. Mr. M’Bride, which was accompanied with much excitement, and what the world would call extravagance; but it resulted in the conversion of between two and three hundred souls. And in the same year, another occurred in the Island of Skye, which is in many respects extraordinary. Religion appeared to be well near dead. Among several thousand persons, there were found only five or six New Testaments, and they had few advantages under the ministry. An itinerant preacher appeared, and laboured for some time among them, attracting considerable audiences. But it was without any apparent success, till a poor blind fiddler was converted, and raised up as a mighty agent in the great work. One of the ministers soon followed, and at length the revival spread until several hundreds were added to the Church of those who should be saved.

In 1824, a revival occurred under very different circumstances, in the parish of Uig, in the island of Lewis, under the pastoral care of Mr. M’Leod. The first visible symptom of it was a rapid decrease in the number of communicants. But nine thousand people flocked from all quarters to hear the Word, and to witness the service in which they would not partake. Multitudes were converted, and a general spirit of prayer poured out from on high. And this interesting revival has continued steadily to grow down to the present time.

I have not adverted to many revivals reported to have taken place more recently in America, nor to those which have gladdened our hearts in our own day, and in our own land, but have confined myself to the authentic narrative of cases, whose fruits and effects we have had time to test and ascertain. And I think the cases which have been enumerated are sufficient to show that such revivals are not novelties in the history of the Church. And therefore they should not be regarded with those feelings of jealousy and suspicion which novelties in religion are so apt to awaken.

PART III. The Work Of The Spirit In The Edification Of His People.

CHAPTER 1. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Holiness.

The general work of the Spirit of God consists of two parts — the REGENERATION of sinners, and the EDIFICATION of his people. Under the latter, several special operations of his grace are included, which are distinctly mentioned in sacred Scripture. These may be considered separately, as examples of the connection which subsists between His grace and all our duties; and as evidences of the love and wisdom with which his blessed agency is adapted to all the wants and weaknesses of our nature. It is an animating and consoling thought, that the promised grace of the Spirit has respect to every duty which we can be called to discharge, and to every change that can possibly occur in the condition, the temptations, and the trials of his people. For whether we are called to fight against our corruptions — the Spirit is our sanctifier; or to endure affliction — the Spirit is our comforter; or to choose the path of duty in times of perplexity — the Spirit is our guide; or to engage in prayer — - the Spirit is the spirit of grace and supplication; or to cultivate any one of the graces of the Christian character — they are all “the fruits of the Spirit.” So that, whatever may be our duty, and however formidable the difficulties which surround us, we can look up to God on the warrant of His own word, for the aid of that “good Spirit” who has promised “to help our infirmities.” He says to each of his people, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” — “My grace is sufficient for you; I will perfect my strength in weakness; — “As your day is, so shall your strength be;” — “Wait on the Lord, and be of good courage, and he will strengthen your heart; wait, I say, upon the Lord.”

SANCTIFICATION is the work of the Spirit; and the commencement of it in the soul, is to be dated from the time of a sinner’s conversion. Until he is converted, he is “dead in trespasses and sins.” For the apostle says to the Ephesian converts,

“He has quickened you, who were dead in trespasses and sins, in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit which now works in the children of disobedience. Among whom also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others.”

And again, he says to Titus,

“For we ourselves were also sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving diverse lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another. But after that, the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost; which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

At the time of a sinner’s conversion, spiritual life is imparted to his soul — he who was dead is quickened — he rises with Christ to newness of life — he is born again — he is “God’s workmanship, created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works.”

This great change is often preceded, as we have seen, by a preparatory work of conviction and instruction. And it is always followed, as we will now see, by a progressive course of sanctification. But it properly consists in his closing with Christ in the Gospel, by the deliberate assent of his understanding in an act of faith, and the decisive consent of his will in an act of choice. At the instant when a sinner, duly instructed in the truth, and impressed with a sense of his guilt and danger, flees to Christ for refuge, and embraces him as his own Saviour in all the fulness of his offices — at that instant he passes from “death unto life,” and becomes a partaker of all the privileges of the children of God. That we might understand the nature, the reality, and the magnitude of this blessed change, God has been pleased to record many examples of it in Scripture, which serve the double purpose of teaching us, both what is essentially involved in all cases of genuine conversion, and also the varieties of individual experience which may exist notwithstanding.

In reviewing the cases of the Philippian Jailer, and the dying Malefactor; of Lydia, Cornelius, and Paul; of Timothy, the Ethiopian Treasurer, and the three thousand who were converted on the day of Pentecost — we are enabled to see that, while there were great diversities of individual experience among them (both in respect to their previous character, and the manner and circumstances of their conversion itself), yet there was a radical change that was common to all. And it properly consisted in their being brought under the power of “the truth as it is in Jesus;” while it was followed in every instance by a life of new, and cheerful, and devoted obedience.

When the apostle says, “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit” (Gal 5.25), his words are addressed to those who have undergone this great change. And they refer, not to the work of the Spirit in the conversion of a sinner (which has already been illustrated), but to the continued work of the Spirit in the progressive and growing sanctification of the believer, after he has been born again. And in directing your thoughts to this interesting subject, it may be useful, first of all, to illustrate some important truths which are implied in this exhortation, and then to explain and apply the exhortation itself.

I. It implies that a new birth will invariably be followed by a new life — and conversely, that a new life necessarily presupposes a new birth; so that regeneration and sanctification are inseparably conjoined. In other words, a renewed heart will be followed by practical reformation; and a holy life can only spring from an inward change of heart. Regeneration is the spring; sanctification is the stream. If we live in the Spirit, we will also walk in the Spirit. But we cannot walk spiritually unless we are spiritually alive.

This important truth is clearly taught by our Lord, as it will appear at once from a comparison of two passages, in which he presents it in each of these aspects. In the first (Mat 7.16-20), he says,

“You shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles? Even so, every good tree brings forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree brings forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that does not bring forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire. Therefore, by their fruits you shall know them.”

Here we are taught that the nature of the tree may be judged of by the quality of its fruit; and that wherever spiritual life exists in the heart, it will manifest its presence there by bringing forth the peaceable fruits of righteousness in the life. So that utter barrenness is a proof of spiritual death, according to His own words: “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit, he takes away” — “Behold these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find none: cut it down; why does it cumber the ground?’’ But seeing that there may often be many outward semblances of holiness, where there is no inward change of heart, our Lord teaches us in another passage (Mat 12.33), that the quality of the fruit depends on the nature of the tree. In other words, there cannot be a spiritual life without a living principle within. He says,

“Either make the tree good, and his fruit good, or else make the tree corrupt, and his fruit corrupt: for the tree is known by his fruit. O generation of vipers, how can you, being evil, speak good things? For out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart brings forth good things; and an evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth evil things.”

And in the 6th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, he gives three distinct instances of the way in which actions, apparently good and moral, may be vitiated by the depraved state of the heart. He mentions almsgiving, prayer, and fasting, and declares that if they proceed from an unhallowed principle, or improper motive, they are not acceptable in the sight of God.

It is equally clear, then, that every sinner who has been quickened by the Spirit, will also walk in the Spirit. And that a holy life, such as the Christian leads, must be preceded by a new spiritual birth. If he is alive, he will walk; but if he would walk, he must be made alive. And the inseparable connection which subsists between a new birth and a new life, or between regeneration by the Spirit, and a progressive course of sanctification, is well worth our serious consideration. This is because it serves to guard us against two widely different errors which, it is to be feared, are too prevalent at the present day. The first is of an Antinomian complexion. And it consists, perhaps, not in the positive belief or denial of the duty which is incumbent on Christians, but in the practical forgetfulness, or habitual neglect of those considerations which should lead them to maintain a close and conscientious walk with God. It often results in their “turning the grace of God into licentiousness,” — as if they were at liberty to “continue in sin because grace abounds.”

Perhaps the most common and fatal form which this dangerous error assumes in modern times, is the presumptuous confidence with which some professing Christians will venture to do what their consciences condemn; or at least what they can reconcile (with great difficulty) even to their ideas of duty, with the latent feeling that if they sin, they have only to repent at some future time to ensure their forgiveness. This is a feeling which, wherever it exists, evinces an utter ignorance of the nature and source of genuine repentance, and an awful lack of fear and reverence for God. But to every man who is conscious of any tendency to continue in the indulgence of known sin, or to relax his diligence in the work of a growing sanctification, may it not be said, If you don’t walk in the Spirit, what evidence do you have that you live in the Spirit? Isn’t it alike the command and the promise of Christ’s Gospel — “Don’t let sin, therefore, reign in your mortal body... for sin shall not have dominion over you; for you are not under the law, but under grace. What then? Shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid!” (Rom 6.12-15) — “How shall we who are dead to sin, live in it any longer?” (Rom 6.2)

But if a new life invariably follows the new birth, it is equally certain that there can be no real holiness of life without a thorough change of heart. And this truth also, which is implied in the apostle’s words, stands directly opposed to another error of a different kind — I mean the error of those who are mere formalists, and who suppose that if their life is regular and decent — and above all, if they abound in the outward acts of apparent morality — they need have little concern about any spiritual change. Augustine was in the habit of saying that the virtues of such men were only “splendid sins.” And our Lord sanctions the same sentiment when, referring to the alms, and prayer, and fasting which were done from an impure and unhallowed motive, he declares that however these may be applauded by men, they were utterly unacceptable to God. No, I would venture to say that every man’s conscience will decide in the same way: it estimates the morality of an action by the motive from which it springs. Suppose you see an individual relieving the wants of a poor brother — you immediately approve of an act by which the sufferer’s wants are relieved. But suppose you could look in on that man’s heart, and found no love there, and no touch of human sympathy — but in its stead, is a lust for praise, or a desire for vain-glorious applause — I ask whether, in that instant, the vicious motive would not, even in your estimation, demoralize and desecrate the whole character of his conduct? And so it is with ourselves in our relation to God. He looks in upon the heart; and the heart must be renewed before the life can be reformed according to his will. If it is true that “without holiness no man can see the Lord,” then it is equally true that we can only become holy by being “renewed in the spirit of our minds.”

II. It is further implied, in the apostle’s words, that not only the commencement, but also the continuance of spiritual life in the soul, depends on the gracious operation of the Spirit of God. As the great initial change by which we pass from death unto life is wrought by Him, so is the succeeding course of our progressive sanctification. And as he brings us into the way, He must conduct us from first to last, by the constant communication of his wisdom to direct, of his grace to animate, and of his strength to sustain us. We are made alive by the Spirit; and we are enabled to walk by the same Spirit. At the time of conversion, he may implant a gracious principle in the heart; but that principle is not self-sustained, nor does it derive its nourishment from the soil in which it is planted. Rather, it is fed from His secret springs. The liveliest Christian would soon decay, if the Spirit’s grace were withdrawn. He has no stability and no strength of his own. And there would be neither growth nor fruitfulness, without those constant supplies which He receives of all needful grace, from the fulness that is in Christ.

Accordingly, various expressions are used in Scripture to intimate the constant operation, and the abiding presence, and the intimate fellowship of the Spirit with his people. Sometimes they are represented as being in him — “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.” This is an expression which, whatever else may be implied in it, plainly intimates a constant dependence on their part, and a continued care on his. And at other times, he is represented as being in them — as when our Lord said, “I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you forever; even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive because it does not see him or know him. But you know him; for he dwells with you, and shall be in you.” And the apostle — “What, don’t you know that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you, which you have from God?” And both expressions occur in this same verse (Rom 8.9) — “You are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if the Spirit of God dwells in you.”

The consideration of the continued presence, and constant operation of the Spirit of God in the soul of every true believer, is fitted at once to encourage and animate him in the path of holy obedience, and to impress him with an awful sense of reverence and godly fear. It is a strong consolation, and a cheering ground of confidence and hope, that amidst all the corruptions with which he is called to contend, and the innumerable temptations by which he is assailed, he is not left to depend on his own wisdom and strength. But he may ask in believing prayer, the supplies of the Spirit of all grace, and rest on the promise, “My grace is sufficient for you; I will perfect my strength in weakness.” And when the believer is most sensible of his infirmity and corruptions, he is only better able to appreciate the value of this promise, and to say with the apostle, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” But if it is fitted to cheer and animate the believer in his warfare, by giving him the hope of final victory, it is also unspeakably solemn. It may well fill him with holy awe, to think that the Spirit of God is at all times present with his soul — watching over its progress or declension — its growth or decay. So that, by cherishing unholy thoughts or desires, he may “grieve the Spirit,” and even provoke him to withdraw for a time. And when he reads the solemn appeal, “Don’t you know that you are the temples of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you. If any man defiles the temple of God, God shall destroy him,” — how forcibly he should feel the motive which is urged in the apostle’s exhortation, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who works in you to will and to do for his good pleasure.”

III. The apostle says, “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.” While his words contain a doctrinal truth, they also prescribe a practical duty. And that duty is inculcated by a motive, derived from the consideration of our having been quickened into life by the Spirit of God. It is as though he had said, If we have been born again, let the new birth be followed by a new life; let our walk correspond with our past experience, and our present profession. There is much even in this general view of the apostle’s meanings, that may well humble us in the very dust for our past negligence. And at the same time, it may incite us to greater diligence in the future. For everyone who professes to be a Christian must be considered as one who has been “born again,’’ and in whom the “Spirit of God dwells.” And if this is implied in our profession, then oh! how deeply we should be affected by the thought of our many miscarriages, our frequent declensions and decays, and the strength of our remaining corruptions. And how ardently we should desire that, in time to come, we may walk worthier of the vocation with which we have been called, and become altogether as God’s Spirit would have us be!

But more particularly — this walking in the Spirit consists in the habitual exercise of faith in Christ — that faith by which we are united to him, so as to receive out of his fulness even grace for grace. God has made Christ sanctification to us, as well as redemption (1Cor 1.30); and it is by faith in him that our sanctification is advanced. For the apostle says, “I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” And this corresponds with His own language to the disciples,

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine; no more can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches: he that abides in me and I in him, brings forth much fruit: for without (or out of) me, you can do nothing. If a man does not abide in me, he is cast out as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.”

Now, “we abide in Christ” when “his word abides in us.” It is by faith, that we are first united to Christ, and it is by the continued exercise of the same faith that our union with him is maintained, and that we derive from him — as a branch draws sap from the vine — the nourishment which makes us fruitful. It was “the truth as it is in Jesus” that was the means of our conversion; and it is the same truth that is the instrument of our progressive sanctification. For Christ’s prayer for his disciples, even when he spoke of the promise of the Spirit, was, “Sanctify them through your truth; your word is truth.” And the truth here spoken of is not solely, nor even chiefly, the truth contained in the law — although that is useful, as affording a perfect rule, and authoritative directory for the conduct of life — but it is especially the truth contained in the Gospel. For that affords the most constraining motives to a life of new obedience; and what “the law cannot do, seeing that it is weak through the flesh,” the Gospel can accomplish, because in the hand of the Spirit, it is an effectual means of sanctification. We are not only justified, we are also sanctified by the truth as it is in Jesus. And those who are jealous of the doctrine of free grace, because of its supposed tendency to relax the obligations of holiness, betray a lamentable ignorance at once of the scheme of revealed truth, and the actual experience of all believers. Man’s method of sanctification is by the law — God’s method of sanctification is by the Gospel; the former is by works — the latter is by faith unto works.

Walking in the Spirit, which is enjoined here, consists further in maintaining a constant conflict with indwelling sin, and seeking to crucify the flesh, with its corruptions and lusts. I need not say, for your own experience must convince you, that regeneration does not destroy sin in the soul. It dethrones sin — it breaks its power; but it does not extirpate or expel it from the heart — it is still there; not as a tyrant, but as a traitor, ever ready to deceive and seduce — and it is most likely to succeed when we are least sensible of its presence, and least watchful against its wiles. Even in the bosom of the child of God, there is many a “root of bitterness,” which springing up, may trouble and defile him — there is a “sin which so easily besets him” — there is a “law in his members warring against the law of his mind, and bringing him into captivity to the law of sin and of death.” The whole course of his sanctification is a ceaseless warfare, which will never terminate until the body is dissolved in death. Now, the steady maintenance of this arduous and protracted conflict is included in “his walking in the Spirit,” and it can only be successful in this way. For, says the apostle, “Walk in the Spirit, and you will not fulfil the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary to one another: so that you cannot do the things that you would. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.”

By the flesh in this context, we are to understand all our sinful propensities and passions, whether those that belong properly to the body, or those that have their seat in the soul. For in enumerating the works of the flesh, the apostle mentions “adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and similar things.” And in reference to these, he says, “Those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its affections and lusts.” The use of the word flesh, however, seems to intimate that our evil passions derive much of their virulence and strength from our connection with these “vile bodies,” whose appetites we are so prone to indulge, and for whose comfort we are so anxious to provide. And if so, we may do well to remember the example of the apostle, who said, “I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection, lest having preached the Gospel to others, I should myself be a castaway.” And the use, again, of such terms as “mortify and crucify the flesh,” implies that we are called to a very painful task, and to the exercise of much self-denial. But this is involved in our profession [of Christ], and inseparable from it — for our Lord thus forewarned his disciples, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.”

Again, this walking in the Spirit consists in maintaining a spiritual frame of mind — by having our thoughts much engaged with spiritual truth, and our affections set on spiritual objects — and all our faculties employed in spiritual services. That this spiritual frame of mind is included in the duty, appears from the statement of the apostle in another place — "For those who are after the flesh, mind the things of the flesh: but those who are after the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.’’ To walk in the Spirit, clearly implies that we should be spiritually minded. [82] And this gracious habit mainly consists in our thoughts being much occupied with divine truth, and our affections and desires being set, not on the things which are seen and temporal, but on those things which are unseen and eternal. The real state of our hearts may be determined by the prevailing bent of our thoughts, affections and desires. For if these are mainly occupied with the world, and naturally and instinctively point to some earthly good, then we have reason to fear that we are still walking after the flesh, and not after the Spirit. But if they are chiefly set on spiritual and divine things — if not only in the hour of prayer, but at other times, they recur to God, and Christ, and heaven, and dwell on these subjects with complacency and satisfaction, or at least with earnestness — then we have reason to hope that we may be of the number of those who have been quickened into spiritual life.

The first and surest symptom of this is the appetite and desire for spiritual nourishment and food. And the one who is thus spiritually minded, is said to “walk in the Spirit,” not only because it is the Spirit which quickened him at the start, but also because the Spirit continues to sustain his spiritual life — keeping alive his appetite for spiritual food — directing his thoughts to spiritual things — -and exciting his affections for spiritual objects. He does this by means of the truth; and hence it is the same truth which is declared to be the germ of the new birth — by which we are “born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, even by the Word of God, which lives and abides forever.” That same truth is also the aliment [83] by which the Spirit nourishes his people. For “as newborn babes, they desire the sincere milk of the Word, that they may grow thereby.” And so the same Word which cleanses the sinner at first — for we read of “the washing of water by the Word” — is also the means of his growing sanctification. For “now you are clean through the word which I have spoken to you.”

Walking in the Spirit consists, further, in our habitually seeking to cultivate and exercise all the graces of the Christian life — by bringing forth abundantly the peaceable fruits of righteousness. These are expressly said to be, in every believer, “the fruits of the Spirit.” For the apostle says, “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance;” and again, “the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, and righteousness, and truth.”

Without attempting to illustrate each of those elements of the Christian character, I may observe, in general, that when combined (as they always are, though in different degrees and proportions in the experience of believers), they are to be regarded as the first lineaments [84] of that divine image which was lost at the fall, and which it is the great design of the Spirit to restore. At the same time, they are a source of the purest and most permanent happiness: — LOVE to God as our Father, to Christ as our best benefactor, and to his people as brethren; — JOY and PEACE, springing from the Gospel; the joy which the world can neither give nor take away; the very peace of God which surpasses all understanding; — LONG-SUFFERING and GENTLENESS, springing from that love which “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things;” — GOODNESS, which rejoices not in iniquity, but in the truth; — FAITH, which believes God, and trusts in his faithful promise; — MEEKNESS, which is not overcome by evil, but overcomes evil with good; — and TEMPERANCE, which restrains indulgence within the limits of duty. These are the elements of the Christian character; and they are as conducive to our true happiness, as they are opposed to our natural dispositions.

But especially, let us realize the thought that these graces are, one and all, the fruits of the Spirit — they are not the spontaneous products of our corrupted nature, nor even the forced nurslings of our own culture and industry. They are the ‘‘beauties of holiness” with which the Spirit of God adorns “the new creature,” and by which He prepares him for the society and services of heaven. If then, we feel ourselves deficient in any one or more of these graces, we should not depend on our own strength; but while we are diligent in the use of every appointed means, we should pray for the SPIRIT.

It is a very serious truth, that each of us must be walking either after the flesh or after the Spirit; and that as we pursue the one course or the other, we are proceeding with the swiftness of time itself, towards heaven or hell. Our personal interest in all the privileges and promises of the Gospel depends on our choice between these two. For, in speaking of those who are interested in the Gospel,[85] the apostle describes them in these words — “There is now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus; who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit;” for “as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.” But he adds, “If any man does not have the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.” “So then, those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” “If you live after the flesh, you shall die.” The apostle urges this solemn truth even on the attention of those to whom he wrote, even though they were professing Christians. This is partly because there are, in every visible church, some mere nominal professors, who need to be awakened to a sense of their real condition. And this is partly also, because it is salutary for believers themselves to be reminded of the wide difference which subsists between the Church and the world, and of the holy jealousy with which they should watch over their own souls. “Therefore, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure.”

CHAPTER 2. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Adoption.

The Spirit of God not only sanctifies his people, but he imparts a new character to their obedience. They “run in the way of his commandments, when he has enlarged their hearts.” And he does this as the Spirit of Adoption. “For you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but you have received the Spirit of Adoption, by which we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God. And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ.” (Rom 8.15-17) When the apostle says, “You have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear,” the word “again” implies that at some former period there existed among God’s people, that spirit of bondage unto fear which is here contrasted with the spirit of adoption, and that they had even received it from God himself. There is reason to believe that the apostle refers, in the first instance, to the difference between the two great dispensations of divine truth, or to the contrast which is elsewhere so strikingly marked between the Law and the Gospel. The widely different characters of these dispensations are described when, in one place, it is said, “The law was given by Moses; but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” And in another, where we read of “the two covenants, the one from Mount Sinai, which genders to bondage: the other from Jerusalem, which is above, and is free.”

I. THE LAW is alike fitted in its own nature, and designed in the purpose of God, to generate a spirit of bondage, to shut men up to the faith that was still to be revealed, and to place them, as it were, under tutors and governors, until the time appointed by the Father (Gal 3.22-25). “Even so,” adds the apostle, “when we were children, we were in bondage to the elements or rudiments of the world. But when the fulness of the time had come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons.” (Gal 4.4-5) In so far as the law given by Moses was a republication of the Covenant of Works, it had no power to give peace to the sinner’s conscience, and no tendency to liberate him from the bondage of his fears. On the contrary, it was fitted and designed to convince him of his guilt and danger — to impress him with an awful sense of God’s unchangeable rectitude and justice, and to teach him that “by the works of the law, no flesh will be justified.” It was, in fact, a ministration of death, a ministration of condemnation. And the bondage of the law preceded, and tended to prepare the way for the glorious liberty with which Christ makes his people free.

But while the apostle’s words may be understood as referring, in the first instance, to the difference between the two great dispensations of the Law and the Gospel — they may also be considered as descriptive of two corresponding stages in the experience of every believer. There is a remarkable resemblance in this respect between the course of God’s dispensations to the Church at large, and the methods of his dealing with each individual in particular. Just as in the history of the Church, the first covenant which gendered unto bondage, preceded the fulness of Gospel liberty in Christ — so in the experience of private Christians, there is often in the first instance, a spirit of bondage unto fear, before they receive the spirit of adoption by which they cry, Abba, Father. Many a soul is kept in bondage for a time, before it is brought into the liberty of a child of God. I don’t refer to the bondage of sin, which the apostle speaks of when he says of the ungodly: “While they promise them liberty, they themselves are the servants of corruption; for by whom a man is overcome, by the same is he brought into bondage.” And again, “That they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will.” This is indeed the natural condition of all men — and there is no tyranny more absolute, and no bondage more severe. But it is a servitude which lamentable experience declares to be perfectly compatible with the utmost carelessness. And its unhappy victims, far from suffering under the Spirit of bondage unto fear, often have no apprehension of their danger, and no desire to escape from their misery, but they cling to the chains by which they are bound. They are slaves, but don’t know it — slaves to their sin, and in bondage to their lusts. Following “the sight of their own eyes, and the desire of their own hearts,” they love their bondage, and even glory in their shame.

But I am not speaking of the bondage of sin, but of the bondage of the Law — not of the yoke of natural corruption, but of the galling yoke of convictions, produced in the conscience by the Word and Spirit of God. Such convictions were felt by the Philippian jailer when, from being a careless sinner, he became a convinced and anxious inquirer. He called for a light, and sprang in and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas, and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” And they were felt by the dying thief on the cross when, under strong impressions of God’s justice, he said to his fellow-sufferer, “Don’t you fear God, seeing that you are in the same condemnation; and we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds;” — and felt by the three thousand on the day of Pentecost, who, when they heard Peter’s sermon, “were pricked in their heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren what shall we do?”

When the law of God is applied to the sinner’s conscience — when he is enabled to understand its spirituality and extent, as reaching even to the thoughts and intents of the heart; — when he is impressed with a sense of his own sinfulness in particular, its aggravated guilt, and its awful demerit — and when applying God’s threatenings to himself, he is made to feel as if God were saying to him, “You are the man,” (2Sam 12.7) — then he will learn from his own experience what is meant by “the spirit of bondage unto fear.” And the sudden change which is thus wrought in all his views and feelings, will enable him to understand what the apostle felt when he said, “I was alive without the law once; but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.” The right apprehension of God’s law, and the serious application of it to a man’s conscience, cannot fail to awaken convictions of guilt. And these, again, are always accompanied with fear and terror — for “the law works wrath;” and its fearful curse will be felt either as a heavy burden oppressing the conscience, or as a grievous bondage from which no human power can effect his deliverance. This has been the bitter experience of many an anxious inquirer at the commencement of his course. He has been so deeply convinced of sin, and so impressed with a sense of divine wrath, that he can have no difficulty in understanding what is meant by the spirit of bondage. God has been a terror to him — so that, like Job, he was ready to say, “The arrows of the Almighty are within me, my spirit drinks up their poison — the terrors of God set themselves in array against me.” Or like David, “I remembered God and was troubled: I complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed.” And the prospects of his soul, and especially the thought of death, judgment, and eternity, have been unspeakably dreadful — insomuch that “through fear of death, he was subject to bondage.”

This spirit of bondage unto fear is the effect of the law, and the utmost that the mere law can accomplish. It “genders unto bondage,” — it awakens fear, and may occasion deep distress; but it has no capacity or fitness for pacifying the conscience, or insuring the salvation of a sinner. God is pleased to use the law as an instrument of conviction — turning over, as with a ploughshare, the fallow ground of nature, and thereby preparing it to receive the good seed. And this preparatory work is of great practical use, and indeed of absolute and indispensable necessity, in order for saving conversion. When the apostle says, therefore, “You have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear,” his words are to be understood as intimating, not that sinners are now exempt from this preparatory discipline, nor that it is no longer used under the Gospel, but that another and better spirit is the proper fruit of the new dispensation under which we have been placed; and it ought to be found in the heart of every believer. I refer to “the spirit of adoption, by which we cry, Abba, Father.”

II. THE GOSPEL. The spirit of bondage unto fear, which is produced by the law applied to the conscience, can only be exchanged for “the spirit of adoption,” by our believing the Gospel. When the sinner — awakened out of the lethargy of nature, and convinced in his conscience, or pricked in his heart — begins to inquire, “What must I do to be saved?’’ he is in a hopeful state of preparation for receiving the Gospel. And if he is enabled, under the teaching of the Spirit, to understand the message of peace which God has sent from the upper sanctuary; — if he is taught to apprehend the nature of the scheme of grace — the design and object of the Saviour’s work, the value and the efficacy of his death as an atonement for sin — the all-sufficiency of Christ as one who is able to save to the very uttermost — and the richness and freeness of His grace as it is expressed and declared in the free and universal calls and invitations of the Gospel; — and if, especially, he is enabled to apply the truth to his own case, so as to feel that the Gospel, which is glad tidings to all, is a Gospel to him, and that Jesus, who is the Christ of God, is a Christ to his own soul; — then at the instant he understands and believes the Gospel message, and appropriates it to himself, the spirit of bondage may be displaced by the spirit of adoption in his heart, and he may enter at once on the glorious liberty with which Christ makes his people free.

For it is simply by faith — simply by believing what God speaks to him in the Word, that the convinced sinner becomes a converted man. And there is enough in Christ’s Gospel to produce and sustain a spirit of adoption in his heart, even if he were the very chief of sinners. The reason why we remain so long under the bondage of legal fears is not that the Gospel is inadequate to remove them, or insufficient to produce a spirit of adoption; but because there is either some defect or error in our apprehension of the truth; or some lurking spirit of unbelief concerning it; or some remaining unwillingness to close with it. If we would only believe, we would see the salvation of God; — if the most disconsolate sinner would only look outside of himself to Christ, and behold him as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world; and opening his mind to the full impression of the truth, he would receive it as a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ came into the world to save sinners — that Christ speaks to him individually in the Gospel, and offers him a free salvation, and calls, and invites, and beseeches, and commands him to accept it — that He who died on the cross is now on the throne, a Saviour mighty to save; and that God is revealed no longer as the Lawgiver, Judge, and Avenger, but as God in Christ reconciling — “the Lord God merciful and gracious, forgiving iniquity, and transgression, and sin,” — oh! then the most anxious inquirer who ever smarted under the yoke of bondage, might pass at once into a state of perfect freedom, and exchange all his misgivings, and forebodings, and fears, for peace and joy in believing — that peace which surpasses all understanding, and that joy which is unspeakable and full of glory (1Pet 1.8).

For by faith in the Gospel, he comes at once into a new state and relation to God. Formerly he was a child of disobedience, a child of wrath, even as others; — now, by adoption, he is a son; and if a son, then an heir, an heir of God, and a joint heir with Christ This change in his relation to God is necessarily antecedent to the witness of the Spirit by which it is declared and confirmed; and it is because we are sons, that God sends forth the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba, Father.” And this filial relation is constituted by faith. For at the instant that a sinner believes the Gospel, he is adopted into God’s family, and becomes a partaker of all the privileges of His children. His whole relation to God is changed. So that the language of the apostle may be addressed to him, “Therefore, you are no longer a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ.”

Adoption is a most precious privilege — it brings us into a new and most endearing relation to God — it makes us the children and the heirs of him who graciously condescends to call himself our Father in heaven. And as it is bestowed like every other privilege of his grace, through the mediation of his own Son, it confers an infallible security by making us “joint heirs with Christ.” We are not heirs in our own right, but in the right of him who is God’s only begotten and well-beloved Son. And this precious privilege, which brings us now under the paternal protection of God, and gives us a sure interest in all the promises of the Gospel, is attained simply by believing. For there is enough in the message of the Gospel to warrant even the very chief of sinners in drawing near to God as a forgiving Father. And as soon as that message is clearly understood and cordially believed, we may enter at once, on the state and condition of his children.

But this change in his relation to God will be accompanied with a corresponding change in his views and feelings toward Him; he will now regard Him as his Father. His state being changed, his spirit will be changed also; and he will be conscious of a new frame of mind, which is here called “the spirit of adoption, by which he cries, Abba, Father.” This childlike disposition can only be produced by the truth as it is in Jesus, received in the exercise of a simple faith, and applied with power by the Spirit of all grace. And the spirit of adoption springs as naturally from the Spirit’s work in applying the Gospel, as the spirit of bondage springs from the Spirit’s work in applying the law. It belongs to the office of the Holy Spirit to unfold to the believer, the unsearchable riches of Christ — to open up the freeness of his grace, and the fulness of Gospel privilege which belongs to his people. “For,” says our Lord, “he shall glorify me. He shall receive of mine, and show it to you.” And the ap0stle says, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for those who love him. But God has revealed them to us by His Spirit.” “Now, we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit of God, that we might know the things which are freely given to us by God.”

The work of the Spirit in applying the Gospel for the comfort and establishment of believers, considered as the children of God, consists of two parts. Though they may be intimately connected and mutually related with each other, they are nevertheless capable of being distinguished, and are mentioned separately by the apostle. For distinct effects of His operation are referred to when we read in Rom 8.15, of “the spirit of adoption, by which we cry, Abba, Father;” and in the 16th verse, of the witness of the Spirit, by which He assures us that we are the children of God. The one denotes the childlike disposition which characterises every true believer. The other, the assurance of sonship, is a higher attainment than the former, but one that is not always enjoyed even by those who manifest much of the spirit of filial reverence, submission, and love. Some latent feeling of hope, some secret trust and confidence, is indeed necessarily implied in the spirit of adoption, by which the believer cries, “Abba, Father.” And he may really be drawing near to God with the confidence of sonship, while from some remaining darkness or defect in his faith, he may shrink from using the strong language of assurance; he dare not say in so many words, that “the Spirit bears witness with his spirit that he is a child of God.” But if he has believed the Gospel at all — if he has been enabled to understand the Gospel message, and to apply it to his own soul, he must have experienced a great and a growing change in all his views, feelings, and dispositions towards God — he must have been liberated in some measure from the spirit of bondage, and imbued with the spirit of adoption. And wherever this new spirit exists, it is in itself a proof of sonship. And in its growing strength, and habitual exercise, it may lay the foundation of that full assurance of hope which is produced in the mind of a believer, when “the Spirit bears witness with his spirit that he is one of the children of God.”

That we may understand the nature of this childlike frame of mind, and the new character which it imparts to the believer’s obedience, the following may be observed.

1. That the spirit of adoption implies reverence and godly fear, such as is due to God’s infinite and adorable perfections; but it excludes the slavish dread and terror which a conviction of guilt is apt to inspire. We read in Scripture of two kinds of FEAR: the one of which belongs to the spirit of bondage, the other to the spirit of adoption. They are usually distinguished in the writings of divines, by the name of filial and slavish fear. Slavish fear is the fear with which a slave regards his taskmaster; filial fear is the fear with which a son regards his father. You can have no difficulty in distinguishing between the two, or in seeing that while the one is excluded by faith in the Gospel, the other may be only deepened and confirmed by it. The fear which springs from a spirit of bondage, arises from the terrible apprehension of God as an avenger. It is apt to exasperate our natural enmity, to widen our separation from God, and to excite distrust, dislike, and aversion. And it is one of the great objects of the Gospel to change this unhappy frame of mind by removing the ground of our apprehensions, and proclaiming a message of reconciliation.

But even where the Gospel message has been so clearly understood, and so sincerely embraced, that it has destroyed the spirit of bondage, and brought the soul into the conscious enjoyment of that liberty which belongs to the children of God — it does not remove, but on the contrary, it deepens that filial fear which it becomes us, as children, to cherish towards such a being as God, even when He is regarded as our Father in heaven. This is a fear which properly consists in reverence; and expresses itself in the language of humble adoration; and produces a circumspect and watchful habit, such as described when the apostle says to believers, “Do not be high-minded, but fear” — “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling,” — and “pass the time of your sojourning here in fear.” This reverential fear is not the fruit of guilt, or mere conviction of conscience, nor is it confined to the bosoms of sinners. It is felt and cherished by the angels and seraphim of heaven, when they veil their feet and their faces with their wings, and cry to one another, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts.” It was felt by all the saints of old, who were admitted to near converse with God, or who witnessed any remarkable manifestation of his divine perfections — as by Elijah, when he covered his face with his mantle; — and Moses, when he said, “I exceedingly fear and quake;” — and the beloved disciple, when he “fell at his feet as dead.” It is indeed an essential and permanent part of true religion, both on earth and in heaven. For it will never cease to be true that great fear is due the Lord in the meeting of his saints, and he is to be held in reverence by all those who approach him.

The spirit of adoption, then — although it delivers us from the spirit of bondage, and the slavish dread which devils feel, of whom it is said that “they believe and tremble” — has no tendency to cherish an undue familiarity with God, nor to relieve our minds from that salutary awe and godly fear which is the very beginning of wisdom. On the contrary, the same Gospel which releases us from the yoke of slavish terror, by revealing the grace and mercy of God to sinners, is fitted to deepen even our deepest thoughts of the holiness and justice, the truth and the majesty of God. This is such that no believer can contemplate the cross of Christ without feeling a solemn sense of awe on his spirit, and entering into the meaning of the Psalmist’s words, “There is forgiveness with God, that He may be feared.”

2. The spirit of adoption implies a lively sense of gratitude, and a principle of supreme love to God, such as a child feels towards a forgiving and affectionate father. And it excludes that sullen discontent and resentful opposition, which the spirit of bondage is apt to inspire. Slavish fear — a fear arising merely from convictions of conscience and the prospect of judgment, naturally tends to increase our aversion to God, and to inflame our natural enmity. And whether it evinces itself in violent opposition, as in the case of Herod, who feared John and afterwards cast him into prison; or in dark and dreadful despair, as in the case of Judas, when under the influence of remorse he went and hanged himself — it has no power to attract or reconcile the sinner to his Judge. But “what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin condemned sin in the flesh; that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk after the flesh but after the Spirit.”

The Gospel, as a message of love, is fitted to inspire the sinner with gratitude. And wherever it exists, faith works by love — by love to God for the benefits which he has conferred — for the compassion and mercy which he has exercised — and for all the adorable perfections of his divine nature, which he has displayed in the scheme and work of redemption. And this love, engendered by the glad tidings of salvation through Christ, utterly excludes the slavish anxieties and terrors which belong to the spirit of bondage. For the apostle says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love.” But “we love him, because he first loved us.” Who can describe the feelings of a convinced sinner when he is first enabled to look up to God as a forgiving father, and to hear, as though from His own lips, the gracious words, “Son! be of good cheer, your sins are forgiven you!” Just such were the feelings of the poor prodigal after his wayward and weary sojourning in a strange land, where professing himself to be free, he inwardly felt that he was the slave of his own passions. And in “the spirit of bondage,” he preferred (even when he was in want) to go into a field and fill his belly with the husks which the swine ate, rather than return to his father’s house. Yet, remembering his father’s love, his heart relented, and he said, “I will go to my father.’’ But still in the spirit of bondage, he added, “Make me as one of your hired servants.” He came, “and when his father saw him afar off, he ran, and fell upon his neck, and kissed him, and said, This my son who was dead, is alive again; was lost and is found. Bring out the fairest robe for him, and kill the fatted calf.” — Oh! if we can conceive them, just such are the feelings of a sinner when the spirit of bondage unto fear is displaced by the spirit of adoption, “by which he cries, Abba, Father.”

3. The spirit of adoption implies a warm brotherly love towards all who are members of God’s family – a new affection corresponding to the new relation into which we have been introduced, and bearing some proportion to the sacred and endearing ties by which, as Christians, we are connected with each other. The spirit of adoption points directly to God, and consists in supreme love to him. But it also necessarily implies love to the brethren; for the apostle says, “Everyone who loves Him who begot, also loves him who is begotten of Him.” “If a man says, I love God, and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he that does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen? And this commandment we have from him, that he who loves God, loves his brother also.” The intimate connection which subsists between the two — I mean between love to God as our Father, and to each other as brethren — is abundantly proved by the experience of our own hearts, as well as by the express testimony of the Word.

For if, on the one hand, we experience in any season, an unusual enlargement of affection towards God; if we taste most sweetly, and see most clearly, that the Lord is gracious, and have great liberty and comfort in crying out to him, “Abba, Father;” then we will also feel a corresponding love to all his people. We will feel a disposition to forgive as we hope to be forgiven, and a desire to do good to all men as we have opportunity, but especially to those who are of the household of faith. And if, on the other hand, we allow our spirits at any time to be ruffled by strife and contention — if in the heat of undue excitement, we begin to think or to speak harshly of one another, and allow the sun to go down upon our wrath — we will feel in the very hour of prayer, how fatal this unhallowed spirit is to comfortable fellowship with God — how it fetters our freedom and embitters our feelings. And even when we seek to cry, “Abba, Father” in the spirit of adoption, it infuses into our souls all the discomfort and anxiety of the old spirit of bondage. Hence our Lord’s command to his disciples, “If you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift;” — and the exhortation of the apostle, “Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamour, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ’s sake, has forgiven you. Therefore, be followers of God, as dear children, and walk in love.”

4. The spirit of adoption implies a disposition to hold fellowship and communion with God as our Father, and with his children as our brethren in Christ. The spirit of adoption prompts the believer to hold communion with God; for it is by this spirit that he cries, “Abba, Father.” And as it leads him to be much engaged in prayer, so it gives a new character to his devotions. They are no longer the expression of an anxious and fearful heart, but the outpourings of a spirit confiding in a father’s wisdom, rejoicing in a father’s love, and committing itself to a father’s care. So long as he was under the spirit of bondage, prayer was felt to be a task, or used only as a form — instead of being a sweet and refreshing privilege. His petitions were dictated by fear more than by faith, and he felt rather like a criminal speaking to his judge, or as a slave deprecating his master’s wrath, than as a child communing with his father. But now, adopted into God’s family, and reconciled through the blood of Christ, he feels a confidence in drawing near to God, such as a child has in speaking to a wise and affectionate parent, and which is only more tender and deeply rooted in his heart, because he had been a rebellious child, and is now forgiven. The very recollection of his sins, when combined with a sense of God’s pardoning mercy, will fill his heart to overflowing with love, and gratitude, and joy. And while he is deeply humbled, and ready to acknowledge that he is “no longer worthy to be called a son,” yet knowing that his adoption was an act of sovereign grace, and that it was granted, not on account of his own righteousness, but solely through the righteousness of Christ and the redemption of the cross, “he can come boldly to the throne, that he may obtain mercy, and find grace to help him in every time of need.” And in doing so, he is encouraged by the relation in which God stands to him, as his Father in heaven; and by the recollection of those gracious assurances which are founded on this relation in the Word. He remembers the words of Christ himself — “But when you pray, enter into your closet; and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret; shall reward you openly,” — “Your Father knows what things you need, before you ask him;” — and, “If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him.”

There is a rich fountain of encouragement to prayer, in the idea that God is our Father. For it assures us that even our weakness and infirmities — no, our very sins and shortcomings — may not exclude us from his notice and regard. On the contrary, “Even as a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who fear him.” And this is His own promise — “I will spare them, even as a man spares his own son who serves him.” If such is the relation in which we stand to God, and such are the feelings with which He regards us, then when we draw near to him in the spirit of adoption, we need not be cast down or discouraged by a sense of our weakness and infirmities. For just as a father’s heart is touched by the weakness of his child, so that the child is never more tenderly dealt with than when he is sick and faint,[86] and just as a father’s arm is all the more ready to be stretched forth for his child’s support when sensible of its own weakness, the child clings to him with fear, lest it fall. Indeed, just as a father’s sympathy and love are sure to be called forth when an obedient son seeks to serve him, and grieves that he cannot serve him better — and they are never more sincerely or deeply felt than when, in the exercise of a wise discipline, he chastens and rebukes the child of his love — just so God, as our Father in heaven (or rather much more, seeing that His love is infinite and unchangeable) will regard the weaknesses and wants, the infirmities and imperfections of His children. For hear His own gracious words, “Can a woman forget her suckling child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Indeed, they may forget, yet I will not forget you.” — “Is Ephraim my dear son? Is he a pleasant child? For since I spoke against him, I earnestly remember him still. Therefore my heart is troubled for him. I will surely have mercy upon him, says the Lord.”

With such views of God, and of his relation to him as a Father, the believer’s communion with him is sweet; he feels in prayer very much as a child does when he speaks to a father who is both able and willing to help him. And have liberty of access at all times, and frequent occasion, as well as the richest encouragement to pour out his heart, and to spread out his case before Him, he acquires a growing desire for His fellowship; and prayer comes to be his constant habit and his sweet privilege. He is “anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, he makes his requests known to God; and the very peace of God which surpasses all understanding, shall keep his heart and mind through Christ Jesus.”

And just as the filial love which he bears to God as his father is associated with a fraternal love to all his people, so the communion which he enjoys with God will ever be accompanied with the desire to hold communion also with all those, in every place, who belong to the same family — who share in his privileges, and partake of his spirit, and cherish his hopes, as children of the same father, and expectants of the same inheritance. It is the counsel of God to all his children — “See that you do not fall out by the way” (Gen 45.24) — “love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous.” And in token of their common relation and their mutual love, God is pleased to make them sit down at the same table, and to unite in commemorating the riches of redeeming grace — for by partaking of the sacred symbols, they profess the same faith, and are fed with the “children’s bread.” It is in “the spirit of adoption” that every communicant should approach the table — not in the spirit of bondage, as if it were a task, or a gloomy and uncomfortable service; but in the spirit of adoption, crying, “Abba, Father.” For the sacred symbols represent the broken body and the shed blood of the Saviour, through which we obtain liberty of access and may come boldly to the throne of grace. They point to “the new and living way which he has consecrated for us through the veil, that is to say, his flesh.” And when we are called on to partake of them together, in an act of solemn social worship, we should feel towards each other as brethren; as children of the same father, seated around the same table. All of us sharing more or less in the infirmities and weaknesses which still cling to His children on earth; but sharing also in the same precious privileges, partaking of the same spiritual food, and cherishing the same everlasting hopes.

5. The spirit of adoption implies a disposition to trust in God for the time to come, just as a child confides in the wisdom, and faithfulness, and care of a wise and affectionate father. If we have been delivered from the spirit of bondage unto fear, and if we have been enabled to draw near to God through Christ, as our reconciled and forgiving Father, then we have ample reason to cherish an unshaken confidence in his unchangeable love, and to commit our future way to the Lord, in the assurance that “he will bring it to pass.” The prospects even of a child of God in this world, may indeed be often dark and threatening. The future may seem to the eye of sense, to afford much cause for anxiety and apprehension. And in musing over it, the believer may sometimes be conscious of many painful misgivings and dark forebodings of heart. Even when he has been on the mount of communion, and has been ready to exclaim, “It is good for us to be here,” the thought may have occurred to him that he must soon descend again into the world, to be harassed once more by its business, and beset by its temptations, and exposed to all the dangers, and difficulties, and trials, which must be his portion in the vale of tears. And he may occasionally feel a tendency to cherish the sad apprehension that possibly — after all the privileges he has enjoyed, and all the professions he has made — he may fall short of the rest which remains for the people of God; and make shipwreck of faith and of a good conscience, by yielding to those adverse influences which he cannot avoid, and which he is so unequal to resist and overcome. At all events, he must lay his account with many trials; and is perhaps afraid to face them, and disposed to shrink from them.

The spirit of bondage unto fear can give no relief, and afford no comfort in such a case. On the contrary, it is ever ready to brood over all the varieties of possible evil, and to convert future danger into present distress, and even to magnify by its own distorted vision, the difficulties which lie before us. But the spirit of adoption may give relief — not by exempting us from trials, and still less by making us indifferent or insensible to them — but by enabling and disposing us to commit our case into God’s hands, in compliance with his own declaration, “Cast your burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain you.” For a little child looks to the wisdom, and confides in the care of an affectionate father; and when he ventures out into the world, he feels all the more secure when he knows that a father’s foresight has arranged his plans, and a father’s eye is still watching over his progress. Just so, the believer looks up to God as his father in heaven. And, — knowing that nothing can happen to him without His permission or appointment — knowing that He is ever present to observe, and almighty to sustain, and unerring to direct him — and that He has pledged his faithful word of promise, saying “I will never leave you, nor forsake you” — “as your day is, so shall your strength be” — “my grace is sufficient for you” — “I will perfect my strength in weakness” — and “all things shall work together for good to those who love God” — the believer is able to say with the apostle, in the spirit of childlike confidence, “Therefore we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper; I will not fear;” and with the Psalmist, “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.”

6. The spirit of adoption implies a spirit of cheerful obedience and submission to God’s will — of obedience to his will as it is revealed in the Word, and of submission to his will as it is displayed by the dispensations of His providence.

An obligation to obedience is necessarily involved in the relation of sonship. And wherever that relation really exists, and is associated with the corresponding spirit of adoption, it will lead to the unreserved, unconditional, and cheerful observance of every part of God’s revealed will. For “a son honours his father, and a servant his master. If then, I am a father, where is my honour? And if I am a master, where is my fear?” If you have anything of the spirit of adoption, it will be “your food and your drink to do the will of your Father in heaven;” — your language will be, “Father, not my will, but yours be done;” — “Our Father which is in heaven, your will be done on earth, even as it is done in heaven.” And this being your sincere desire, you will be solicitous, in the first instance, to ascertain in every case, what is the will of God, by carefully consulting the law which He has written on the tablets of your hearts, and the clearer law which he has revealed in the pages of his Word. And when you have ascertained his will, you will obey it at all hazards. You not allow the temptations of the world, nor the lusts of your own hearts, nor the sophistry by which your passions would beguile and mislead your conscience, nor any considerations of interest or expediency, to deter or seduce you from following that straight path of duty in which God commands you to walk.

For being God’s children, the opinions of men and the gain of the whole world, will be as nothing to you in comparison with the slightest intimation of His will. And the spirit of adoption will give a new character to your obedience. It will no longer be the reluctant and half extorted service of a slave, but the willing, cheerful, and devoted homage of a son, submitting to his father’s guidance — not from constraint, but willingly; and devoted to his service because he delights to do him honour. This is the characteristic difference between the legal obedience of fear, and the evangelical obedience of love. And just as love is a more kindly and generous principle of action, so the obedience that flows from it will be at once more unreserved in its extent, and more cheerful in its nature — pleasant to him who renders it, and acceptable to him to whom it is paid. Such is the obedience which God, as a Father, expects from all His children. But oh! if an unreserved and cheerful compliance with His will, is the test of sonship — if the spirit of adoption must reconcile us to all His commands and engage us in a life of holy obedience — then what shall we say of those who, bearing the Christian name, and appearing among the children at His table, are nevertheless living in the habitual neglect or violation of His law? These communicants come to His table saying, “Abba, Father!” And as often as they pray, they call him “Our Father which is in heaven.” Yet, when they go back to the world, they “return like a dog to its vomit, or like a washed sow to her wallowing in the mire.”

Are there none bearing the Christian name among us, who are conscious that their practice ill accords with their profession as children of God? I am not speaking of the infirmities and shortcomings with which every Christian is chargeable; but of that willful and habitual opposition, in some respect or other, to God’s will, which is utterly inconsistent with the spirit of filial reverence and love. Can he be a child of God, who, when God commands him to sanctify the Sabbath, profanes it by worldly business or vain amusements; or when God commands him to be sober and temperate, gives himself to rioting and drunkenness; or when God enjoins purity of heart and life, lives in uncleanness and licentious pleasure; or when God prescribes the path of honour and integrity, prefers the crooked paths of dishonesty and deceit? It cannot be. And those who, presuming on Gospel liberty, dare to live in the habitual neglect or violation of any part of God’s will, must bear to be reminded that if the spirit of adoption gives a new character to our obedience, then it is not in the way of relaxing it or bringing it down to the standard of the world’s opinions and habits, but by raising it, and infusing into it new life and strength, and making it at once more cheerful, more unreserved, and more devoted than before. And that, “if where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty,” it is not the liberty of those who turn the grace of God into licentiousness, or “who continue in sin because grace abounds;” but the liberty of men “who run in the way of his commandments, when God has enlarged their hearts;” and who feel the force of the apostle’s exhortation — “Brethren, you have been called to liberty; only don’t use liberty for an occasion for the flesh;” — as “free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God.”

The spirit of adoption, while it implies a disposition to obey God’s will, as it is revealed in his Word, will also manifest itself in the way of quiet and resigned submission to his will, as it is displayed in the dispensations of His providence. These dispensations may often be afflictive; and they may serve to try the faith and patience of his people, insomuch that they may sometimes be in heaviness through manifold temptations. But the spirit of adoption will lead them to regard all these trials, however numerous, and severe, and protracted they may be, as the discipline of a Father’s hand; and they will bow before the rod, and kiss it, even when it strikes them. Knowing that nothing happens by chance, and that everything in their lot is ordained by unerring wisdom and infinite love, and it will be overruled for God’s glory and their own good — and remembering the gracious words, “Whom the Lord loves, he chastens, and scourges every son He receives,” — they will not only lay their account with trials, but feel it to be alike their duty and their privilege to resign themselves into the Lord’s hands. They will say, “It is the Lord, let him do as seems good in his sight.” (1Sam 3.18)

And who does not see that the spirit of adoption gives a new character to our submission, and imparts a sweetness to our very trials? The spirit of bondage may produce a sullen and reluctant submission, as when a man yields to inevitable necessity, or to overwhelming power. But the spirit of adoption, by which we cry, “Abba, Father,” views every trial as a Father’s chastisement; and connects it with a Father’s love; and responds to the apostle’s touching appeal, “We have had fathers of our flesh who corrected us, and we gave them reverence. Should we not much rather be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and live?”

7. The spirit of adoption is associated with inward peace, and comfort, and hope, which — though they may disturbed and interrupted by the operation of other causes — are its proper and natural fruit, and which springing up, and growing by degrees, may issue in the full assurance of sonship. The spirit of adoption is essentially, in its own nature, a peaceful and happy frame of mind. Everything within and around, above and beneath, present and future, temporal and eternal, assumes a new aspect when we can call God our Father. Even the beauties of nature, always lovely, acquire a fresh loveliness to the Christian, when he can look abroad over its sublime mountains and smiling landscapes, and say, “My Father made them all.” And so the events of providence — the evolutions of that mighty scheme which embraces all our interests and hopes — appear in a new light to the believer, when he can say, “my father rules them all.”

But more especially, the vast scheme of grace and redemption appears in a new light when, in the spirit of adoption, he can look to the Author of that scheme as his Father, once offended, but now reconciled, and to what God has already done for him as a pledge of what he is still willing to do — an earnest of the fulfilment of all his promises. For “if God did not spare his own Son, but delivered him up to death for us all; much more will He, with him, also freely give us all things.” “I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus Our Lord.”

The spirit of adoption, implying, as it does, a sense of God’s love, and faith in his covenant promises, must necessarily be accompanied with some measure of hope. And although that hope may be too weak to allow us to use the strong language of assurance in regard either to our present state or our everlasting prospects, it may be sufficient to sustain, and animate, and encourage us in our Christian course. A childlike disposition of mind, including trust and resignation, and a contrite and tender spirit, may exist where — through remaining darkness, or occasional weakness — a believer may be unable to use that language. But as this filial spirit is matured, it may grow up to the full assurance of hope, being in itself at once an evidence of our sonship, and an earnest of our future inheritance. For the Holy Spirit of promise is itself the earnest of our inheritance; and the firstfruits of the Spirit are a pledge of a glorious harvest. This may explain the difference, as well as the connection, which subsists between the spirit of adoption, by which we cry, “Abba, Father,” and the witness of the Spirit, which we read of in the succeeding verse: “He witnesses with our spirits that we are the children of God; and if children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Jesus Christ.”

There are two different classes, whose experience may be the same in so far as the absence of all sensible comfort is concerned. But their experience is so different in other respects, that we must carefully discriminate between them in offering (as we now propose to do) a few observations for their direction and relief. One is the spirit of bondage unto fear; the other is a spirit of heaviness.

(1) There may be some who are sensible that they have never, at any time, been enabled to look to God with feelings other than terror and aversion; and that His holy character, and righteous law, and awful government, have invariably filled them with apprehension and alarm. And they have obtained relief from these distressing feelings only when they succeeded, for a time in banishing the thought of God, death, and eternity from their minds; or in cherishing such conceptions of his perfections and purposes as they knew to be at variance with the revelation of His character and will in the Word — conceptions which were felt to be more in accordance with their own wishes, and indispensable to their inward peace. Such persons may be assured that as often as their habitual carelessness has been disturbed by occasional convictions of conscience, or awakening glimpses of the truth, they have experienced what is meant by the apostle when he speaks of the spirit of bondage unto fear. And if there are any who are labouring under the burden of guilt, and groaning under the bondage of fear, while sensible of no relief, and even ignorant of the remedy provided for them in the Gospel — I would affectionately remind them that there is much in their present condition which is fitted alike to suggest a solemn warning, and to impart a rich encouragement.

There is something unspeakably solemn in the thought that these convictions — these fears and misgivings of which they are conscious — have all been awakened by God’s law, applied to their consciences by the Holy Ghost; and that their present experience may be the firstfruit of the Spirit’s operation. It belongs to Him “to reprove the world of sin.” Considering them in this light, I would say nothing to allay their convictions, remove their fears, or rebuke their misgivings, as if they were either extravagant or unfounded. On the contrary, believing that they are the proper fruits of the law when applied to a sinner’s conscience, and that, far from being too intense, they fall far short of what the real state of the case warrants and requires — I would seek to deepen even your deepest convictions of guilt, and to impress you with the thought that your danger is really greater than your fears. But while we dare not offer you relief from your present bondage by relaxing the fetters, or lowering the demands, or tampering with the curse of God’s righteous and unchangeable law — we can point to a way in which you may exchange your bondage for perfect freedom. We can do this without any violation of God’s law, without any disparagement of His character, without any dishonour to His government, and without any denial either of your own sin, or of His eternal justice.

Look from the Law to the Gospel — from the curse to the cross — from Sinai, with its thunderings and lightnings, to Calvary where the lawgiver became the law-fulfiller, and “the end of that law for righteousness, to everyone who believes.” (Rom 10.4) Even now, while under all your legal terrors, look to Christ, as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world; and look to God in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, and not imputing to men their trespasses. And at the instant you apprehend the great truth that as just as God is, and as guilty as you feel, God can be, through Christ’s propitiation, the just God, and yet the Saviour — at that instant, you may pass from a state of bondage into the liberty of a child, and feel that a new spirit is given to you, even the spirit of adoption, by which you may cry, “Abba, Father.” And that you may be encouraged to avail yourselves of this gracious deliverance, I beseech you to remember that, while the calls and invitations of the Gospel are alike universal and free — so that they belong to sinners as such, and to all sinners without exception — yet, as if with a special view to your own case, they are often particularly addressed to those who are labouring under the spirit of bondage unto fear. It’s not that careless and fearless sinners are excluded — because all are invited, even the wicked and the unrighteous — but to meet the difficulties, fears, and scruples of convinced and awakened sinners, they are mentioned by name, as it were: “Come to me all you who labour, and are heavy laden; and I will give you rest;” — “Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters;” — “Whoever is thirsty, let him come, and take of the water of life freely.”

(2) But there is another class, very different from the former, who may be labouring under a spirit which, if not the same, is still akin to the spirit of bondage unto fear — I mean the spirit of heaviness, through manifold temptations to which many of God’s people are subject. And this spirit is often associated with, and apt to engender doubts and fears as to their safety — misgivings as to their interest in Christ, and their participation in the privileges of sonship. Such persons have experienced, in former times, the liberty and enlargement of heart which the Gospel imparts. And they have known what it is to be translated out of darkness into God’s marvellous light; and to look up to God with childlike confidence, as a reconciled Father. But now, they are visited again with a spirit of heaviness, arising from a sense of shortcoming, or from a season of declension, or from the withdrawal of the light of God’s countenance. And this spirit of heaviness, like the spirit of bondage, may be accompanied with many distressing misgivings and fears. So that, in their present state, they may have no comfort, and no childlike confidence in looking up to God, and no freedom to say, “Abba, Father.”

To them I would affectionately say in the way of warning, your present experience is a very solemn call to search and try your ways; to consider what may be the occasion of God’s controversy with you; to humble yourselves on account of your sins and short-comings, your neglected privileges, your abused mercies, your broken resolutions and vows; and to make full and frank confession before God — just as a child should do when he has offended an affectionate father.

But I would also say, in the way of encouragement, that you are not to regard your present experience, dark and distressing as you may feel it to be, as affording of itself, any evidence that you do not belong to the number of God’s children. You may be apt to imagine that it would not be this way with you if you had obtained the privilege of sonship. But be assured, no trial has befallen you which has not been common to God’s children, when he says that, “now for a season, if need be, they are in heaviness through manifold temptations.” We have the recorded examples of holy DAVID, who said — “I remembered God, and was troubled. I complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed.” And of HEMAN — “Lord, why do you cast off my soul? Why do you hide your face from me? I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up; while I suffer your terrors, I am distracted.” And of JOB — “The arrows of the Almighty are within me; my spirit drinks up their poison; the terrors of the Lord set themselves in array against me.” And of JONAH — “I said, I am cast out of your sight, yet I will look again toward your holy temple.” And of the Lord JESUS himself, who exclaimed on the cross, in words which breathe at once a spirit of heaviness and of childlike faith — “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

And finally, in the way of direction, you must obtain relief from your present distresses and fears, by the exercise of the same simple faith by which you first entered into peace. You must look outside of yourselves to Christ — and forsaking the law, find refuge in the Gospel. You must repair anew to the fountain which God has opened for sin and for uncleanness, and cast yourselves on the mercy and faithfulness of a covenant-keeping God. And be assured that sooner or later (for you must wait the Lord’s time), He who has taken you into the wilderness, will speak comfortably to you; the cloud which now intercepts from you the light of His countenance, will be dispersed; and you will yet go on your way rejoicing — and cry, in the spirit of adoption, “Abba, Father.”

CHAPTER 3. The Work of the Spirit as the Spirit of Prayer.

In the Scriptures, a special operation of the Spirit is mentioned, by which he aids his people in the exercise of prayer. It is spoken of as one that is common to all believers, and permanent through all ages of the Church. This cheering truth is implied in God’s promise of old, “I will pour upon the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the Spirit of grace and of supplications.” And it is also implied in the declared duty of all believers, which is described in the apostle’s exhortation, “Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit.” But the most emphatic testimony on the subject is contained in the words of the apostle (Rom 8.26), “Likewise, the Spirit also helps our infirmities; for we don’t know what we should pray for, as we ought; but the Spirit itself makes intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered.” It is abundantly evident from these passages, that the Spirit of God in some way “makes intercession for the saints.” But it may be useful to inquire, first, in what sense this is to be understood, or in what way the Spirit acts as a Spirit of grace and supplication? And secondly, What lessons (whether of warning, direction, or encouragement) may be deduced from the doctrine of His agency in prayer?

I. In explanation of this doctrine — it is not to be understood as importing that the Holy Spirit makes intercession for us in his own person, or that he directly addresses his prayer to the Father on our behalf. Christ, as Mediator, prayed for his disciples while he was yet on earth; and he still makes continual intercession for them in heaven, by appearing in the presence of God for them. But the Holy Spirit is never represented in Scripture as interceding in the same way, either by offering up his own personal request, or by appearing for us at the throne. He does intercede in another way, however — by “dwelling in us” as “the Spirit of grace and supplication” — disposing and enabling us to pray for ourselves. He is the Spirit of supplication, just as he is the Spirit of faith, and repentance, and hope. He is the author of these spiritual graces — the source from which they flow, and by which they are continually sustained. Yet they exist in the believer, and are exercised by him, so as to form part of his own personal character. And just so, the Spirit is said to make intercession for us, when he stirs us up to intercede for ourselves, and gives us grace to desire and to ask for what blessings we severally require.

That this is the sense in which the doctrine is to be understood, appears from several expressions which imply that, by the Spirit’s grace, believers are taught and enabled to offer up their own supplications at the throne. For first of all, it is not the Spirit, considered as a distinct person of the Godhead, that is said to intercede, but “the Spirit that dwells in you,” even the spirit of adoption, by which we cry, “Abba, Father;” — and secondly, it is expressly said that the Sprit helps our infirmities; for we don’t know what we should pray for as we ought — our own prayers being directly referred to. His interposition is designed to remove those hindrances, and supply those defects in us, which would otherwise impair or interrupt our communion with God; — and thirdly, it is added that “he makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” This is an expression which cannot be applied personally to the Spirit, but is aptly descriptive of that moral earnestness and deep concern which He awakens in our own hearts. And accordingly it is added, “He that searches the hearts knows the mind of the Spirit.” These various expressions are sufficient to show that, by the intercession of the Spirit, we are to understand the earnest supplication and prayer which, by his grace, we are disposed and enabled to offer up at the throne.

If anyone doubts the necessity of the Spirit’s aid in the exercise of prayer, there is enough in the words of the apostle to convince him of his error. For even an inspired man, classing himself along with other believers, says, “The Spirit also helps our infirmities; for WE don’t know what we should pray for as we ought.” This humbling confession of our own infirmity and ignorance, and of our simple dependence on the grace and strength of the Spirit, is indeed greatly at variance with the natural feelings of the human heart, which is prone to self-sufficiency and presumptuous confidence in its own unaided powers. But there is reason to fear that those who have never felt their need of the Spirit’s grace in the exercise of prayer, have either never prayed at all, or if they have observed the outward form, are still strangers to its spiritual nature as the greatest work, the highest and holiest service of the soul, by which it holds communion with God in the exercise of those graces of faith, and love, and hope, which are all inspired and sustained by the Holy Spirit. The careless and presumptuous sinner, or the cold and formal professor, may be conscious of no difficulty in prayer which cannot be overcome by the power of his own natural faculties. He may content himself with the repetition of a form of words, such as his memory can easily retain and recall. And caring for no further communion with God than what may be implied in the occasional or regular use of that form, he is not sensible of any infirmity that would call for the aid of the Spirit. But these are not the feelings of any true believer. For never is he more sensible of his own infirmity, and of his absolute dependence on the Spirit’s grace, than when he seeks in the hour of prayer, to spread out his case before the Lord, and to hold communion and fellowship with him as his Father in heaven.

Having some idea, however inadequate, of the greatness and majesty of God; and having some sense, however feeble, of the spirituality of his service — knowing that “God is a Spirit, and that those who worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth;” but conscious at the same time of much remaining darkness, of the corruptions which still cling to him, and of the manifold distractions to which his mind is subject, even in the most solemn exercises — he knows what those “infirmities” are of which the apostle speaks. And he will be ready to join with him in the humbling confession, “We don’t know what things we should pray for as we ought.” His own experience teaches him that the spirit of prayer is not the natural and spontaneous product of his own heart — that it was implanted there, and that it must be continually sustained by grace from on high. And long after he has been enabled to come with comfort to the throne of grace, and to pour out his heart with much of the peace which a spirit of adoption imparts — he may be reminded by the variations of his own experience, that he must be dependent from first to last, on the Spirit’s grace for all his earnestness and all his enjoyment in prayer.

Oh! what believer has not occasionally felt his own utter emptiness, and the barrenness even of this precious privilege, when — left to himself — he attempted to pray while the spirit of prayer was withheld! You may have retired at your usual hour to your closets, and fallen upon your knees, and used even your accustomed words. But you felt that your affections were cold, your desires languid, and your whole heart straitened and oppressed — you strove once more to renew your request, and with greater urgency than before. But in spite of all your efforts, your thoughts began to wander even in God’s immediate presence. And as you rose from your knees, you were ready to exclaim, “Oh that it was with me now, as in months past; — oh, that I knew where I might find Him! that I might come even to His seat! I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments.” On such occasions you complain of unbelief — of a wandering mind — of a hard and insensible heart. And these complaints are frequently heard among God’s people. For I believe that He often visits them with such experiences, for the very purpose of impressing them with a humbling sense of their own infirmity; and to remind them of their dependence on the Spirit for the right use and enjoyment of all the means of grace.

The grace of the Holy Ghost, then, is indispensable if we would maintain the spirit, and enjoy the exercise of prayer. But we must ever remember that in this, as in every other part of his work, He acts by the use of means, and in a way that is wisely adapted to the rational and moral nature with which we are endowed. He acts upon us, not as mere machines, but as moral agents. And by various considerations and motives, He teaches and disposes us to pray. Every part of his work as the Spirit of grace, has a tendency to prepare us for this exercise. For whether He acts as a reprover, convincing us of sin — or as sanctifier, subduing our corruptions — or as a comforter, giving us peace and joy in believing — or as a teacher, enlarging our views of divine truth, and confirming our faith in it — all the operations of his grace are subservient more or less directly to the exercise of prayer. But that we may have a clear and distinct idea of the Spirit’s agency as “the Spirit of grace and supplication,” it may be observed more particularly, that —

1. He enables us for prayer, by disclosing to us our necessities and wants, our sins and shortcomings — so as to impress us with a deep sense of our absolute dependence on God. This is intimated when it is said, “The Spirit also helps our infirmities; for we don’t know what we should pray for as we ought.” Self-ignorance is a great hindrance to fervent prayer. We are not duly sensible of our wants, and hence we have no earnest desire for those supplies of grace which we really need. We are apt to say with the Laodiceans, I am rich and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; not knowing that “we are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.”

Our prayers have respect either to our temporal or our spiritual wants; and with reference to both, we need the enlightening and directing grace of the Spirit.

In respect to our temporal wants, it might seem we would have little difficulty in understanding them, and in praying for what things we need. But I apprehend, every experienced believer will be ready to acknowledge his ignorance on this subject, and to confess that he often doesn’t know what is really good for him. Every condition of life has its peculiar snares, and temptations, and trials. And one of the most precious fruits of the Spirit is a disposition to resign ourselves to the will of God, and to pray for temporal blessings only in so far as they may be consistent with, or conducive to, our spiritual welfare. This resigned and spiritual frame of mind is beautifully expressed in Agur’s prayer: “Give me neither poverty nor riches: feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full, and deny you, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.” (Pro 30.8-9) This is so far from being the natural disposition of our hearts, that the apostle represents the very opposite spirit as prevailing among professing Christians, and breathing in their very prayers — “You ask and don’t receive, because you ask amiss, that you may consume it on your lusts.” (Jas 4.3)

In reference, again, to our spiritual wants, we are often lamentably ignorant of their nature and extent. And those who have paid most attention to the state of their hearts will be the first to feel how much they need the grace of the Spirit to direct them to a discovery of their sins. Thus David exclaims, “Who can understand his errors? Cleanse me from secret faults;” — “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me and know my thoughts; and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Nothing is more necessary to prayer than to know the “plague of our hearts.”

2. The Holy Spirit, besides disclosing to us our wants, our weaknesses, and our sins, makes known the rich provision of all needful grace which is treasured up in Christ. And this is as useful for our direction and encouragement, as the discovery of our necessities is for awakening our desires — since in great measure, it is owing to our ignorance or unbelief in regard to the rich provision of the Gospel, that we “don’t know what we should pray for as we ought.” The Holy Spirit makes known to the believer, in all their fulness and variety, the inestimable blessings of redemption. For “He takes of the things of Christ, and shows them to us;” and he is sent that we may “know the things which are freely given to us by God.”

A clear discovery of the rich and glorious privileges which Christ has purchased for his people, is at once a means of direction, and a source of encouragement in prayer. When they are placed before us in all their variety and extent, we feel how much we need them, how suitable they are to our real wants, and how infinitely precious and desirable in themselves. Pardon, repentance, holiness, peace of conscience, eternal life — when these and similar blessings are vividly conceived of as having been purchased by the Saviour for his people, and offered to all without exception in the Gospel, we see what we should pray for. And we also feel that we have a free right and warrant to pray for them, infinitely great and precious though they may be. Ignorance of the gracious provisions of the Gospel, or a dim and indistinct apprehension either of the nature of these blessings, or of the method by which they were provided, or of the terms on which they are offered, is a great hindrance to prayer. But prayer becomes free and lively, in proportion as we are taught by the Spirit to know the things which are “freely given to us by God.” These are great blessings — and when we pray for them we may well feel that we make a great request of God. But when we know that they are all treasured up for us in the fulness that is in Christ, and that they are freely tendered to us in the Gospel, “we come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in every time of need.”

3. The Holy Spirit assists us in prayer, by working in us those dispositions and desires that make us seek those supplies of grace which we need, with earnest, importunate, and persevering supplication: “As the hart pants after the water brooks, so my soul pants after you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?”

We have no such disposition or desire naturally. The carnal mind, which is enmity against God, is naturally averse from those spiritual blessings of which it stands in need. True, it is desirous of exemption from pain, and punishment, and danger; but whatever is spiritual, is obnoxious to its taste. This is such that, if an unrenewed mind were supposed, on the one hand, to be sensible of its sin, misery, and danger (a case which is never realized in actual experience); and on the other, it were enabled to perceive the number and variety of the blessings which have been purchased and offered by Christ — if left to follow its own inclination, without the restraining and renewing grace of the Spirit, it would refuse to accept God’s great salvation!

The awakening of spiritual desire in the heart is the work of God’s Spirit; and that desire must be kept alive by His continued agency. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.” This new disposition or desire makes prayer natural, easy, and delightful to the people of God. Just as a natural man hungers and thirsts for food and drink, so the renewed man hungers and thirsts after righteousness. He has a new spiritual appetite which naturally and spontaneously seeks its proper spiritual aliment. And hence, those commands and observances which are a burden and bondage to mere formalists, are an easy yoke to every living Christian.

4. The Holy Spirit helps us in prayer by strengthening and exciting into lively exercise, those spiritual graces which are essentially implied in communion with God. Prayer properly consists in the exercise of these graces. It is not the mere expression of natural feeling; it is an exercise of repentance, of faith, of love, of trust, and of delight in God; — of REPENTANCE, which is expressed in the language of confession; — of FAITH, for he that comes to God must believe that he is the rewarder of those who “diligently seek him;” — of LOVE, for we call him Abba, Father; our Father who is in heaven; — of TRUST, for we commit our case into his hands; — and of DELIGHT, for the promise is, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” These graces are not only presupposed or implied in prayer, but prayer properly consists in the lively exercise of them — insomuch that where these graces are lacking, there is no prayer, whatever forms may be observed, and whatever words employed. Now let it be remembered that all these graces are the fruits of the Spirit — that they are at first implanted, and must ever afterwards be nourished by the Spirit — and you will perceive at once how the Spirit may assist us in prayer, simply by strengthening and exciting into lively exercise all the gracious affections of the soul. By this means, He gives us freedom and comfort in prayer. For where these graces are absent, prayer is a mere form; where they are weak, prayer is cold and languid; but where they abound, prayer is the soul’s communion with God.

5. The Spirit aids us in this exercise by helping our infirmities, when he either removes the hindrances to prayer, or stirs us up to watch against them, and to rise above them.

There are many hindrances to prayer. Some are external, arising from the body or the world — others are internal, arising from the state of our own hearts. Of the latter, I may mention ignorance, unbelief, indifference, despondency, and the like. These are removed by the Holy Spirit as he is the enlightener, the sanctifier, and the comforter of God’s people. And of the former, I mention bodily infirmities, the cares and business of life, the dissipating influence of society, and such, from which the Spirit promises no exemption, to any of his people; but which he strengthens them to resist, and enables them to overcome. If we would overcome these hindrances to prayer, we must avail ourselves of those helps which the Spirit of God has provided for us, remembering that He acts in the use of ordinary means, and that his grace is to be sought in the way of duty.

II. Many lessons might be deduced from the doctrine of the Spirit’s agency as “the Spirit of grace and supplication;” — applicable alike for our warning, our direction, and our encouragement in prayer.

We learn from it that prayer is a very solemn exercise — an exercise in which we not only hold direct converse with God whom we address, but in which God also holds converse with us, by the operation of his Spirit in our hearts. And as this reflection is fitted to rebuke and humble us on account of the carelessness with which we have too often approached his throne, so it should warn us against the guilt and danger of calling on his name without some suitable feelings of reverence and godly fear.

We learn from it that prayer is an exercise far beyond our natural power, and demands the exercise of graces which can only be imparted by the Spirit of God. And this reflection, again, should direct us to look to the Spirit of all grace, and to implore his aid as often as we come to the throne.

We learn from it that God has made the most ample provision for our being restored to His communion and fellowship. For not only is He revealed as the hearer and answerer of prayer, sitting on the throne of grace, and waiting to be gracious; and not only is Christ revealed as our advocate and intercessor, standing beside the throne, and ready to present our requests, perfumed with the incense of his own merits — but lest, when all outward impediments were removed, there might still remain some hindrance in our own hearts — the Holy Spirit is also revealed as “the Spirit of grace and supplication,” — “who intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” And as this precious truth should encourage us to ask His grace to help our infirmities, so it should inspire the hope of an answer in peace. For every prayer that is prompted by the Spirit is a pledge of its own fulfilment, seeing that “God who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because he makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God.” And even if we felt as though we were at a loss for words to express our desires to God, even this should not discourage us — the desire of the heart is prayer, even if it finds no fit utterance. For Moses’ heart spoke only when God said, “Therefore cry unto me;” and Hannah’s when “she spoke in her heart” — her lips moved, but her voice was not heard; yet without words “she poured out her heart before the Lord.” The very lack of suitable expressions may only show that the Spirit is making intercession for us “with groanings that cannot be uttered.”

But while we are warned, and directed, and encouraged by this precious truth, we must habitually bear in mind that the Spirit’s grace is to be sought in the path of duty — that his influence is not designed to supersede, but to stimulate our industry; and that if we would overcome the hindrances which prevent or mar our communion with God, we must diligently avail ourselves of the helps which He has provided for our use. Where prayer is prevented or abridged by any necessary cause, and especially by bodily infirmity, the words of Christ himself show that he will make every reasonable allowance for our weakness. For on that memorable night when he was in agony in the Garden, and when his soul was exceedingly sorrowful even unto death, and his sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling to the ground — his disciples, whom he commanded to watch, began to sleep. He gently rebuked them saying, “What! Could you not watch one hour?” And then he exhorted them, “Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation.” Yet, no sooner was the warning uttered, than he himself suggested their excuse, “The spirit truly is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

But there are other hindrances to prayer, for which no such allowance can be made, and which we must watch against and overcome in the use of every appointed means, if we would expect the blessing of the Spirit. Our bodily infirmities themselves, when they proceed as they often do, from sloth and self-indulgence, and from the fulness of a pampered appetite, are reasons for deep self-humiliation when they mar our communion with God. And we should “watch unto prayer,” and even fast if need be, remembering the apostle’s words, “I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection, lest by any means, having preached the Gospel to others, I should myself be cast away.” And in like manner, the necessary business of life must be attended to. But the absorbing cares, the idle amusements, the mere vanities of the world, which so often abridge the time, and destroy the comfort of prayer, should be watchfully guarded against and steadily resisted, if we would enjoy the communion of the Spirit in our fellowship with God.

CHAPTER 4. The Work of the Spirit as the Comforter.

Our blessed Lord intimated to his disciples before his departure, that he would not leave them desolate or orphans, but would send them the Holy Spirit that He might abide with them forever. And he spoke of the Spirit as a paraclete (an expression which has been translated in our version — a comforter, but which may be rendered an ADVOCATE, or monitor), whose office it should be to plead the cause and secure the welfare of his people in various ways, by helping their infirmities, guiding them into all truth, strengthening them against the assaults of temptation, sustaining them under the pressure of trial, and aiding them in the exercise of prayer. It is less necessary to dwell on the mere meaning of that expression, because unquestionably in other places the Spirit is represented as executing the office of a comforter, as when the apostle says, “Now the God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in believing, that you may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost.” (Rom 15.13) The peace, and joy, and hope which are mentioned here, are the constituent elements of that comfort which God has provided for his people. And elsewhere they are severally described as being of inestimable value — fruits alike sweet and precious of the riches of his grace. For this peace is called the very “peace of God which surpasses all understanding;” and this joy is said to be “unspeakable and full of glory;” and this hope is “a living, a lively hope, an anchor to the soul, both sure and stedfast, entering into that which is within the veil.”

It may be useful to direct your thoughts to the source of this comfort; to the method in which it is bestowed; to the various degrees in which it may be enjoyed; and to the duty which is implied in the apostle’s prayer, of seeking “to be filled with all peace and joy in believing, and to abound in hope.”

I. With reference to the S0URCE of this comfort, it is important to remark that the peace, and joy, and hope in which it consists, are severally ascribed in Scripture to each of the three Persons in the Godhead, and represented as flowing to us out of the various offices which they execute under the Covenant of Redemption. God himself is the author of this comfort — the inexhaustible fountain of his goodness being the source from which it proceeds; but it is not as the God of nature and providence — the Creator, Preserver, and Governor of the world — it is as the God of grace and redemption that He imparts it to his people. It is to God in his covenant relation as God in Christ — the reconciler and the Saviour of the guilty — that the apostle refers when he speaks of the God of hope, and as “the God of patience and consolation;’’ and more expressly still in another place, where he says,

“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, by the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

As God is the author of this comfort, so it comes to us in and through Christ as the Mediator of the new covenant. He was sent “to preach peace to those who were far off, and to those who were near.” He is himself “our peace,” as he is “the propitiation for our sins.” For “being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ; by whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” Christ is “the Prince of Peace,” and his Word is the “gospel of peace;’’ and he was sent at once to procure and to proclaim that reconciliation on which our peace, and joy, and hope depend: “He has anointed me to preach good tidings to the meek; he has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted” — “to comfort all who mourn; to appoint to those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.”

And accordingly, both the Father and the Son are conjoined in the apostle’s prayer — “Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God, even our Father, who has loved us, and given us everlasting consolation and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish you in every good word and work.” — But this comfort, flowing from God himself as its source, and through Christ the Mediator of the new covenant, as the channel by which it is conveyed to us, is applied to our hearts by the gracious agency and inward operation of the Holy Spirit. The apostle prays for the Roman converts, that they might be “filled with all peace and joy in believing, and abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost.” And of the primitive believers, we read that they “walked in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost.”

The Spirit’s love as a Comforter is manifested in various ways. For first, it was the Spirit with which Christ himself was anointed, and by which he was qualified (in respect to his human nature) for the execution of his great design — “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, for he has anointed me to preach.” Secondly, it was the Spirit who dictated the whole of that message of grace and mercy which is contained in the gospel; for “holy men of old spoke as they were moved by the Holy Ghost;” and therefore, every consolation which the gospel imparts, and every hope which it inspires, is to be gratefully ascribed to Him. And thirdly, It is the Spirit who, by his continued agency in the Church, and his internal operation on the minds of believers, enables them to understand the gracious import, and to feel the blessed influence of the gospel, so that they are “filled with all peace and joy in believing, and abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost.”

Such is the view which is given in Scripture of the source or origin of the comfort that is spoken of here. It is ascribed to each of the three persons of the Godhead, and represented as flowing to us out of the various offices which they fulfil under the covenant of redemption. And by this view, two reflections are suggested which may be briefly noticed: — the first is, how gracious and lovely is the aspect in which God’s character is presented, when each person in the Godhead is declared to be so interested, not only in the safety, but in the comfort and happiness of his people; — and the second is, how sweet and comfortable is the dispensation under which we are placed, seeing that it is alike fitted and designed to fill us with all peace and joy in believing, so that we may abound in hope through the power of the Spirit of God.

If, then, the Father is the very God of peace, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; and if his beloved Son is the Prince of Peace; and if the Holy Spirit is the Comforter, the Spirit of all grace and consolation; and if the Gospel is indeed, as its very name imports, glad tidings of great joy — it follows that, however God’s people may sometimes have their peace disturbed by the operation of other causes (such as the remaining darkness of their understandings, or the unsubdued corruption of their hearts, or the weakness of their faith, or the strength of their temptations, or the number and weight of their trials) — yet, in its native tendency, and proper effect, the Gospel is fitted to produce and sustain “a peace which surpasses all understanding,” and “a joy which is unspeakable and full of glory.” And if any of God’s people are “for a season in heaviness through manifold temptations,” “walking in darkness, and having no light,” they may rest assured that their lack of present comfort arises from no defect in Christ’s Gospel, and still less from any indifference to their real welfare on the part of God. On the contrary, God is “the comforter of those who are cast down;” and it is only, “if need be,” and with a view to their ultimate good, that He subjects them for a season to this sore discipline — taking them into the wilderness for a little while, as it were, that He may speak comfortably to them there.

II. Having seen that God in Christ is the inexhaustible source of that comfort which is imparted to his people by the agency of the Spirit, it will be of considerable practical importance to consider the means and METHOD by which the Holy Spirit fulfils this precious and endearing part of his work.

It would be a dangerous error to suppose that the Spirit comforts his people, by infusing peace and joy and hope into their hearts, without the use of the ordinary means of grace, or separate and apart from his other fruits and operations as their teacher and sanctifier. He acts in this, as in every other part of his work, in a way that is consistent with the laws, and adapted to the necessities of our moral nature. And His work is not divided; its various parts may be distinctly considered, but they never exist separately from each other. They constitute one grand work by which our happiness is secured, while our holiness is advanced.

The Spirit comforts his people by means of the truth revealed in his Word — enabling them to understand its import, to feel its power, and especially to apply it, in the exercise of an appropriating faith, to the case of their own souls. That the gospel, or the truth contained in the gospel, is the instrumental means by which the Spirit comforts his people, appears from the apostle’s prayer quoted above. For he prays that they might be “filled with all peace and joy in believing;” and from his language in another place, “For whatever things were written before, were written for our learning, that through patience and the comfort of the Scriptures, we might have hope.” David, too, refers to the same means of consolation when he says, “This is my comfort in my affliction; for your Word has quickened me.”

The Spirit begins to impart this comfort at the very time of a sinner’s conversion. For no sinner is converted until he is so far enlightened in the knowledge of Christ as a Saviour, and persuaded of the certainty and freeness of the gospel, as to feel that he may as a sinner — guilty and helpless as he is in himself — venture on a scriptural warrant, to put his own personal trust in Christ; and to draw near to God through Him, in the humble hope that “whoever comes, shall in no way be cast out.” And there is enough in these, the simplest elements of gospel truth, to impart immediate relief and comfort to the sinner’s heart — insomuch that, like the Ethiopian treasurer, he may from that hour “go on his way rejoicing.” For the gospel of Christ is really a Gospel — good news, glad tidings of great joy — addressed as it is, not to the innocent, but to the guilty — and affording, as it does, to every man who is a sinner, and just because he is a sinner, a divine warrant to return to the Lord, in the assurance that He will have mercy upon him, even to our God, who will abundantly pardon. From the beginning of his Christian course, the believer may taste and see that the Lord is gracious, and may experience that measure of peace, joy, and hope, which the amplest elements of divine truth, when rightly apprehended and really believed, are fitted to inspire. And yet, his comfort, like every other fruit of the Spirit, allows for growth and increase; it is advanced proportionally as he acquires larger and clearer views of the truth as it is in Jesus.

The believer’s comfort is often, for a time, weak and fluctuating — just because his views of divine truth are dim and indistinct. But as these become clearer and more comprehensive under the teaching of the Spirit, the believer’s comfort also becomes more settled and stable. Every new view which he obtains of the character of God, as it is displayed in the cross of Christ — every new proof of his wisdom, justice, and love, in the work of redemption, and especially in his dealings towards his own soul — every fresh experience of the power of God’s truth — must increase that comfort, which even his first faint glimpse of these things imparted to his heart. And it is in this way, and especially by enlightening him more fully in the knowledge of Christ, that the Spirit comforts his people. We learn this from that remarkable prayer of the apostle —

“For this cause I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that being rooted and grounded in love, you may be able to comprehend with all the saints, what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height — to know the love of Christ, which surpasses knowledge, that you might be filled with all the fulness of God.”

Mark here, (1) That even true converts, genuine believers in Christ, are as yet comparatively ignorant of the boundless love of Christ. (2) That they must be strengthened with might by the Spirit in the inner man, in order to form any suitable conception of it. (3) That a knowledge of Christ’s love is slowly and gradually acquired in the course of Christian experience; for Christ must dwell in our hearts by faith, and we must be rooted and grounded in love, in order to comprehend it. (4) That after all, they can never exhaust a subject which is in itself inexhaustible: it has a height and a depth in it “which surpasses knowledge.” And (5) To know Christ’s love, as only the Spirit can make us know it, is the means of a comfort as full as it is sweet. It is to “be filled with all the fulness of God.” In this manner, the Spirit comforts his people, by disclosing to them the fulness that is in Christ, and the freeness with which his privileges are bestowed. For “we have received,” says the apostle, “not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things which are freely given to us by God.”

It is of great practical importance to remember that all genuine evangelical comfort has its ground and warrant in the revealed truth of God. For then it is not delusive and groundless, like the false security of those who say, “Peace, peace, while there is no peace;” — but it is stable, and sound, and permanent, in proportion to the strength of the ground on which it rests.

Again, the Holy Spirit provides for the comfort of his people — by sanctifying them. We read of two kinds of rest which Christ proposes to us in the gospel; and these two are not only inseparably conjoined in Scripture, but will be found, in experience, to be very intimately connected.

The first is the rest of justification or pardon, of which Christ speaks when, addressing the guilty sinner laden with the burden of his sins, he says, “Come to me all you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” He will take the burden of guilt away; He will abundantly pardon.

But the second is the rest of sanctification — “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

This comfort arises from the subjugation of our unholy passions, and the substitution, in their place, of the gracious fruits of the Spirit. These are essentially, in their own nature, as peaceful as they are lovely — and not only conducive to our happiness, but its constituent elements. It is only necessary to enumerate them, and to contrast them with their opposites, to see that, in their own nature, and apart from all arbitrary rewards or punishments, they are essentially and inherently blissful. Mark the contrast, as it is drawn by the apostle —

“The works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, contentions, jealousies, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and the like...”

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its affections and lusts.” (Gal 5.19-24)

The mere enumeration of these opposite qualities of character should be sufficient to convince you that the graces of the Spirit are fitted, in their own nature, to minister to your comfort. And we have the Lord’s own assurance that every beatitude stands connected with one or another of these graces, when he says,

“Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.”

The Spirit comforts us, then, by carrying on the great work of sanctification. But it is no part of his office to comfort us “in our sins;” and it is still true, as it ever was, that the wicked are like a raging sea when it cannot rest; for “there is no peace, says my God, for the wicked.”

Again, the Spirit comforts his people, by disclosing to them, and enabling them to discern such marks and evidences of a work of grace in their hearts, as may afford a comfortable assurance of their sonship, and awaken a cheering hope of future glory. “The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirits that we are the children of God; and if children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ.” Here, too, the Spirit acts as our Comforter — not by making known our election with an audible voice, or revealing anything that may not be gathered from the Word, when viewed in connection with our own experience — but simply by producing his gracious fruits, and then enabling us to discern them as so many scriptural marks and evidences of our conversion. For it is the presence of the Spirit in our hearts, evinced by the change which His power produces there, which is the witness or evidence of our sonship: “By this we know that we dwell in God: because he has given us of his Spirit,” — and “He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who also has given to us the earnest of his Spirit.” — and “you are sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise, which is the earnest of our inheritance, until the redemption of the purchased possession.”

I don’t need to say that it is no part of the Spirit’s work, as a Comforter, to exempt his people from trials. On the contrary, they seem to be subjected to afflictions at once more numerous and severe than are those of the men of this world. For in addition to disease, and bereavement, and disappointment, which they share in common with others, they are exposed to trials which are peculiar to themselves. Some are inward, arising from the exercise of their own minds — the warfare in which they are engaged — the discipline to which, if need be, they are subjected for their trial, humiliation, and establishment. Others are outward, arising from defamation and opposition — the ridicule or persecution of the world. But here is the mystery of their peace: it is peace in the midst of trouble — joy in the midst of sorrow. “In the world,” says the Saviour, “you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” And hence the apostle could say, “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.”

III. The comfort of which we have spoken, arising from our views of God’s truth, the sanctification of our nature, and the inward witness of the Spirit — may exist in various DEGREES according to the greater or lesser extent of our spiritual attainments. And this is intimated to us, as well as the DUTY of seeking a large measure of evangelical comfort, in the apostle’s prayer — “The God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in believing; that you may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.”

From the manner in which this prayer is expressed, we may learn that there is an intimate and mutual relation between the constituent elements of which the Christian’s comfort is composed; and that peace and joy in believing must first be present, before we can experience a lively hope which respects our future prospects. It will invariably be found that there is no real hope of eternal life hereafter, until we are enabled to so believe the Gospel, as to enjoy some measure of peace now. Therefore, those who complain of the lack of confidence, should be directed, in the first instance, to those simple elements of gospel truth which are fitted to give immediate relief and comfort to the sinner. And those, again, who have experienced some small measure of peace, and have been enabled occasionally to look forward with something like hope to the future, should be encouraged to seek after larger measures of these blissful feelings — so that, “being filled with all peace and joy in believing, they may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost.” This is alike their duty and their privilege. It is their duty — since God himself requires them “to give all diligence to make their calling and election sure;” and it is their privilege — for this abundant consolation, and this good hope through grace, are declared to be attainable; and every believer will acknowledge that they are most desirable. And He who is revealed as “the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort,” is not unwilling to give the Spirit to those who ask him. Nor is the Spirit unwilling to impart His consolations — for he is “the good Spirit;” — “the Spirit of all grace;” — who is “grieved” when his consolations are slighted, and ever ready to “bind up the broken-hearted — to comfort all who mourn.”

But while we are encouraged by these considerations to expect and seek a larger measure of peace, and joy, and hope, than we have yet experienced, we must ever remember that they are to be fought for in the way of DUTY, and in the use of the ordinary means of grace.

It is first, by FAITH — believing the testimony of God in the Gospel; and secondly, it is by “diligence in DUTY” — giving all diligence to make our calling and election sure; and thirdly, by PRAYER for ourselves and for others. It is by these and similar means, that we may expect to realize what the apostle supplicated on behalf of his converts when he prayed for them — “The God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in believing; that you may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.”

And now on a calm and comprehensive review of all that has been said concerning the Work of the Holy Spirit, both in the conversion of sinners, and in the edification of His people, how appropriate are these prayers of David, to the case of every reader, whatever his character may be:

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence, and do not take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation; and uphold me by your free Spirit.” — “Teach me to do your will; for you are my God. Your Spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness.”

Notes

[←1]

Adapted from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Buchanan_(minister)

[←2]

Asseveration: a declaration that is made emphatically (as if no supporting evidence were necessary).

[←3]

Joh 3.3, anwqen – from above, superné.

[←4]

Calvin — “Docemur, exaules nos ac prorcus alienos a regno Dei nasci ae perpetuum nobis cum ipso dissidium case donee,” etc. — In Evang. Joan.

[←5]

At once, as used here and elsewhere, does not mean immediately, but “at the same time.” – WHG

[←6]

NKJ Hos 11:8 How can I hand you over, Israel? ...My heart churns within Me; My sympathy is stirred.

[←7]

By awful, Buchanan means awe-filled: inspired by a feeling of fearful wonderment or reverence.

[←8]

Dr. Thomas Goodwin on the Work of the Holy Spirit — Works, vol. 5. p. 6. “coming in state,” meaning to instate — that is, to invest or endow; to bestow or confer — which always has with it, an accompanying mark or sign.

[←9]

ἐλέγξει (elegchei).

[←10]

M’Laurin’s Works, ii. 110.

[←11]

On this branch of the subject, see the great Work of Dr. Owen, On the Spirit.

[←12]

The relation which the work of the Spirit bears to the Evidences of Christianity, is a subject of profound interest, which has seldom been duly considered; but it does not fall within the design of the present work to expound it.

[←13]

See an excellent sermon on “the Ministration of the Spirit,” preached before the Synod of Aberdeen, by the Rev. Mr. Davidson of the West Church.

[←14]

Here and elsewhere, exasperated doesn’t mean frustrated, but worsened by something.

[←15]

The fact is admitted by the Rev. E. Irving, but is ascribed to the lack of faith on the part of the Church. — Homilies on Baptism, p. 152.

[←16]

On this important subject, the author refers his readers to ta Treatise by President Edwards, on “The Reality of Spiritual Light.” — Works, vol. viii, p. 5. Professor Haliburton on “The Nature of Faith;” and Dr. Owen’s Discourses on “The Reason of Faith;” and “The Causes, etc. of Understanding the Word of God.”

[←17]

Howe, viii. 566.

[←18]

Professor Haliburton.

[←19]

Greek mythology: “The statue of Memnon, at Thebes, was broken in two by Cambyses. From head to middle, it is thrown down; but the rest is seated. And every day at the rising of the sun it makes a noise, like that of a harp or lyre.”

[←20]

Love’s Letters, p. 313.

[←21]

To mantle is to cover up; cheek is being impudent. We deflect an accusation by denouncing the accuser. – WHG

[←22]

Obduracy: unyielding and inflexible; adamant.

[←23]

Condign: deserved; well-earned; fitting or appropriate.

[←24]

Matthew Henry.

[←25]

Horne’s Introd. iii. 166, 380.

[←26]

Halliburton.

[←27]

Robert Bolton’s Comforting of Afflicted Consciences (1630), pp. 56, 68.

[←28]

Dr. Love’s Letters, 294.

[←29]

No attribution is given.

[←30]

Owen, On the Holy Spirit, bk. III, ch. v.

[←31]

Describing the gaslights of 19th c. London, supplied by underground pipes. – WHG

[←32]

Professor: someone who professes (confesses) Jesus Christ as his Lord and Saviour. – WHG

[←33]

To “close with” is akin to closing on a property, at which point ownership is transferred. – WHG

[←34]

Dr. Payne’s Lectures, p. 371.

[←35]

Fuller, M’Lean, Dwight.

[←36]

Owen.

[←37]

Indefinite: those to whom the promise of the Spirit is made, are unknown — pray that it is made to you! – WHG

[←38]

Aliment: What needs to be eaten to sustain a person's body; nourishing food.

[←39]

See the Helvetic, Belgic, and French Confessions.

[←40]

εἰς τὸ ὄνομα, not “in nomine” as in the Vulgate.

[←41]

βρέφη (brephe) – a newborn, an infant, a babe.

[←42]

See Owen’s “Work of the Spirit on the Person of Christ.”

[←43]

See Dr. Wardlaw on Infant Baptism for the Scriptural argument, and Wall’s History for the Historical.

[←44]

Lectures by Dr. Payne of Exeter, 338, 357.

[←45]

Dr. Owen, ii, 283, 482, 492.

[←46]

Ibid. ii. 413.

[←47]

Nonage: any age prior to the legal age.

[←48]

Homilies on Baptism, by Rev. Edward Irving, 346, 349.

[←49]

Mr. Molesworth, a zealous advocate of baptismal regeneration, objects to this application of the analogy. Sermons, p. 422.

[←50]

Nonage: not of age; any age prior to the legal age; a minor.

[←51]

“If regeneration takes place in baptism, it cannot, upon principles of common sense, be an entire change of mind; if it is an entire change of mind — a radical change of heart and soul — upon principles of common sense and experience, it cannot take place in baptism.” — Bishop Bethell on Regeneration in Baptism, xiii.

The same writer refers to Bishop Mant, Waterland, Wall, and others, as founding on the distinction between regeneration and conversion, or spiritual renewal, and illustrates the distinction by the case of Paul, “who, though converted, was not regenerate, till he had washed away his sins in baptism!”

[←52]

See Taylor’s Key to the Romans.

[←53]

Mr. Molesworth says, “The only subsequent regeneration is the regeneration of the corruptible to the incorruptible in the resurrection to life eternal!” — p. 110.

[←54]

Owen’s Works, ii. 247; see also p. 513.

[←55]

E. Irving’s Homilies on Baptism, 387.

[←56]

Rev. Thomas Scott’s Remarks on Bishop Tomlins’s Refutation of Calvinism.

[←57]

“Christian Morals,” by the Rev. Wm. Sewell, Professor of Moral Philosophy at Oxford. This book proceeds on the assumption of baptismal regeneration, and represents that doctrine as the groundwork of Christian Ethics. With much that is objectionable, it presents some fine views of the improvement which should be made of baptism, and of the connection, too often overlooked, between Christianity and Education.

[←58]

Dr. Russell on the “Salvation of Children Dying in Infancy.”

[←59]

Dr. Owen selects the case of Augustine. In 1833, the Rev. J. K. Craig, Oxon, published a work in 2 volumes. on CONVERSION, in a Series of all the Cases recorded in the New Testament, Defective, Doubtful, Real; intended as a help to self-examination.

[←60]

See an admirable sermon by Dr. M’Crie.

[←61]

Gibbon’s Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. II, part I. (1781) – WHG

[←62]

H. More. Lord Lyttleton.

[←63]

Dr. Graves on the Pentateuch, p. 336-351.

[←64]

“Cornelius did not, as yet, have the knowledge of the Gospel of Jesus. He was not even a Jew. He was a Gentile Roman, but had turned from the pagan idolatries to pray to the true God. He was not, therefore, saved. Had he died in that state, he would not have had salvation.” — Conversion, by Rev. J. K. Craig, Oxon, vol. ii, p. 256.

[←65]

See Robert Haldane’s Evidences, vol. ii, p. 429.

[←66]

Natural religion doesn’t refer to the worship of nature, but to those aspects of religion that may be knowable apart from divine revelation, through logic and reason alone – e.g., that there is a God (Rom 1.20). – WHG

[←67]

Andrew Gray’s Sermons.

[←68]

M’Laurin’s Essay on Prejudices against the Gospel.

[←69]

That is, Simon the Zealot (Luk 6.15; Act 1.13).

[←70]

I take for granted that the words are to be understood in their natural and obvious meaning. Dr. Neander of Berlin has attempted to show, as it appears to me, without success, that the apostles did not speak in other languages than their own, but spoke in their own language with such ecstasy and power, that others could understand them. — Neander’s History of the First Planting of the Christian Church, vol. i., p. 15.

[←71]

What follows is not taken from Pilgrim’s Progress. It is a synopsis from Bunyan’s, The Jerusalem Sinner Saved, “Good News for the Vilest of Men.” (Bunyan, Works, vol. I.) – WHG

[←72]

Originally, “Go in your own colours to Jesus Christ.”

[←73]

In 70 AD, Jerusalem was overrun by the 7th Legion of Rome; the Jewish State ended; and the temple was destroyed. Rome then dispersed many Jews to various ports around the Roman empire. The diaspora of the Jews is often dated by that event, rather than by the Assyrian/Babylonian exile (Est 2.6; Joh 7.35; 1Pet 1.1). – WHG

[←74]

Sheet-anchor: a large extra anchor for use in an emergency; figuratively, a source of aid in time of danger.

[←75]

That is, both privately and corporately.

[←76]

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, “the young Hegelians,” wrote the Communist Manifesto in 1848, five years after the first edition of Buchanan’s book was published (1843), and just a year after this 6th edition.

[←77]

Verdure: lush green foliage.

[←78]

D’Aubigné, ii. 347.

[←79]

Reid’s History of the Synod of Ulster.

[←80]

Presumably, the Rev. D. Dickson, mentioned in the next paragraph.

[←81]

Canongate: a street and associated district in central Edinburgh.

[←82]

See John Owen on Spiritual Mindedness (Works, vol. 7, 1681).

[←83]

Aliment: What needs to be eaten to sustain a person's body; nourishing food.

[←84]

Lineamint: a characteristic property that defines the apparent individual nature of something.

[←85]

That is, those who believe the Gospel, and thereby become beneficiaries of God’s Covenant of Grace.

[←86]

Bolton, p. 247.

Table of Contents

PART I. The Spirit’s Work In The Conversion Of Sinners.

CHAPTER 1. The Necessity Of A Great Spiritual Change.

CHAPTER 2. A General View Of The Agency Of The Spirit.

CHAPTER 3. A General View Of The Process Of A Sinner’s Conversion.

CHAPTER 4. The Work Of The Spirit In Enlightening The Mind.

CHAPTER 5. The Work Of The Spirit In Convincing The Conscience.

AN ADDRESS TO CONVINCED SINNERS.

CHAPTER 6. The Work Of The Spirit In Renewing The Heart.

CHAPTER 7. The Result Of The Spirit’s Work In Conversion.

CHAPTER 8. The Regeneration Of Infants.

PART II. Illustrative Cases.

CHAPTER 1. The Philippian Jailer.

CHAPTER 2. The Dying Malefactor.

CHAPTER 3. Paul.

CHAPTER 4. The Ethiopian Treasurer.

CHAPTER 5. Cornelius.

CHAPTER 6. Lydia.

CHAPTER 7. Timothy.

CHAPTER 8. Conversions At Pentecost.

CHAPTER 9. Revivals.

PART III. The Work Of The Spirit In The Edification Of His People.

CHAPTER 1. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Holiness.

CHAPTER 2. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Adoption.

CHAPTER 3. The Work of the Spirit as the Spirit of Prayer.

CHAPTER 4. The Work of the Spirit as the Comforter.

Table of Contents

1

PART I. The Spirit’s Work In The Conversion Of Sinners.

CHAPTER 1. The Necessity Of A Great Spiritual Change.

CHAPTER 2. A General View Of The Agency Of The Spirit.

CHAPTER 3. A General View Of The Process Of A Sinner’s Conversion.

CHAPTER 4. The Work Of The Spirit In Enlightening The Mind.

CHAPTER 5. The Work Of The Spirit In Convincing The Conscience.

AN ADDRESS TO CONVINCED SINNERS.

CHAPTER 6. The Work Of The Spirit In Renewing The Heart.

CHAPTER 7. The Result Of The Spirit’s Work In Conversion.

CHAPTER 8. The Regeneration Of Infants.

PART II. Illustrative Cases.

CHAPTER 1. The Philippian Jailer.

CHAPTER 2. The Dying Malefactor.

CHAPTER 3. Paul.

CHAPTER 4. The Ethiopian Treasurer.

CHAPTER 5. Cornelius.

CHAPTER 6. Lydia.

CHAPTER 7. Timothy.

CHAPTER 8. Conversions At Pentecost.

CHAPTER 9. Revivals.

PART III. The Work Of The Spirit In The Edification Of His People.

CHAPTER 1. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Holiness.

CHAPTER 2. The Work Of The Spirit As The Spirit Of Adoption.

CHAPTER 3. The Work of the Spirit as the Spirit of Prayer.

CHAPTER 4. The Work of the Spirit as the Comforter.

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