Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 5, 1861
THE RESURRECTION.
By C. H. Spurgeon
An extract from a sermon, delivered, April 1st, 1860, at Exeter Hall, London.
BY C. H. SPURGEON.
So much upon this first point. But observe, while the identity is real, the transformation is glorious. The body here is mortal, always subject to decay. We dwell in a poor uncomfortable tent; continually is the canvas being rent, the cords are being pulled up. We are full of sufferings, and aches, and pains, which are but the premonitions of coming death. We all know, some by our decayed teeth, which are, as I said the other day, but the emblems of a decayed man : others by those grey hairs which are scattered here and there ; we all know that our bodies are so constituted that they cannot remain here except for a limited period, and they must—so God has willed it—return to their native dust. Not so however, the new body; "It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption." It will be a body upon which the tooth of time can have no power, and into which the dart of death can never be thrust. Age shall roll after age, but that body shall exist in everlasting youth. It shall sing, but never shall its song be stayed by weakness ; there shall be no signs of mortality ; the shroud, the mattock, and the spade are never seen in heaven. Such a thing as an open grave shall never appear in the celestial king-
dom ; there they live, live, live, but never, never, never shall they die. See then, how different the body must be ; for as this body is constituted, every nerve and every bloodvessel tell me I must die. It cannot be otherwise. I must endure this stern decree, "Dust to dust, and earth to earth, ashes to ashes," but in heaven every nerve of the new body shall cry, "Immortality." Every part of that new frame shall speak for itself, and tell to the spirit that they are everlasting companions, married in eternal wedlock.
There shall be, moreover, a great change in the new body as to its beauty. "It is sown in dishonor ; it shall be raised in glory." The old metaphor employed by all preachers upon this doctrine must be used again. You see here a crawling caterpillar, a picture of yourself, a creature that eats and drinks, and may readily be trodden on. Wait a few weeks, that caterpillar shall spin a shroud, lie down, become inactive, and sleep. A picture of what you shall do. You must spin your winding-sheet and then be laid in the tomb. But wait awhile: when the warmth of the sun shall come, that apparently lifeless thing shall burst its sheath. The chrysalis shall fall off, and the insect fly forth equipped with glittering wings. Having arrived at its full state of perfection, the image, the very image of the creature shall be seen by us all dancing in sunbeams. So shall we after passing through the wormwood here to our chrysalis state in the grave, burst our coffins and mount aloft glorious winged creatures made like unto the angels;—the same creatures, but oh! so changed, so different, that we should scarce know our former selves if we could be able to meet them again after we have been glorified in heaven.
There shall be a change, then, in our form and nature. Old master Spenser, who was a rare hand at making metaphors, says, "The body here is like an old rusty piece of iron, but Death shall be the blacksmith ; he shall take it and he shall make it hot in the fire, until it shall sparkle and send forth burning heat, and look bright and shining." And so surely it is. We are thrust into the earth as into the fire, and there shall we be made to sparkle and shine, and to be full of radiance ; no more the rusty things that we once were, but fiery spirits, like the cherubim and the seraphim, we shall wear a power and a glory the like of which we have not even yet conceived.
Again, another transformation shall take place, namely, in power. "It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power." The same body that is weak, shall be raised in power. We are puny things here ; there is a limit to our labors, and our usefulness is straightened by reason of our inability to perform what we would. And oh, how weak we become when we die. A man must be carried by his own friends to his own grave : he cannot even lay himself down in his last resting-place. Passively he submits to be laid out, to be wrapped up in his winding-sheet, and to be shut up in the darkness of the grave. Silently, passively, he submits to be carried away with the pall covered over him, and to be put into the earth. The clods
are shoveled over him, but he knows it not, neither could he resist his burial if he were conscious of it. But that powerless body shall be raised in power. That was a fine idea of Martin Luther, which he borrowed from St. Anselm, that the saints shall be so strong when they are risen from the dead, that if they choose they could shake the world ; they could pull up islands by their roots, or hurl mountains into the air. Some modern writers, borrowing their ideas from Milton, where he speaks of the battles of the angels, where they plucked up the hills with all their shaggy loads, rivers and trees at once, and hurled them at the fallen spirits, have taught that we shall be clothed with gigantic force. I think if we do not go the length of the poets, we have every reason to believe that the power of the risen body will be utterly inconceivable. These, however, are but guesses at the truth ; this great mystery is yet beyond us. I believe that when I shall enter upon my new body, I shall be able to fly from one spot to another as swiftly as I will ; I shall be here and there, swift as the rays of light. From strength to strength, my spirit shall be able to leap onward to obey the behests of God ; upborn with wings of ether, it shall flash its way across that shoreless sea, and see the glory of God in all his works, and yet ever behold his face. For the eye shall then be strong enough to pierce through leagues of distance, and the memory shall never fail. The heart shall be able to love to fiery degree, and the head to comprehend right thoroughly. It doth not yet appear what we shall be. But brethren and sisters, to come back to reality, and leave fiction for a moment, though it doth not appear what we shall be, yet we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. And do you know what we shall be like, if we shall be like him? Behold the picture of what Jesus Christ is like, and we shall be like him. "I saw," saith John, "one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the feet, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle. His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow ; and his eyes were as a flame of fire ; and his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace ; and his voice as the sound of many waters. And he had in his right hand seven stars, and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword ; and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead." Such shall we be when we are like Christ. What tongue can tell, what soul can guess the glories, that surround the saints when they start from their beds of dust, and rise to immortality !
But now, to turn away from these, which I fear to very many of you are uninteresting particulars, let me give you one or two figures, which may show to you the change which shall take place in us on the day of resurrection.
Do you see yonder a beggar? He is picking rags from a dunghill ; he pulls out piece after piece from the heap of dust, as he uses his rake ; you may see the like any day, if you will go to those great dust-yards in Agar Town. There he pulls out piece after piece, and puts it in his basket.122What can be the value of those miserable rags? He takes them away, they are carried off, picked, sorted, rag to its own rag, like to like. By and by they are washed, they are put into the mill, they are beaten hard, they are smashed, they are ground to pulp ; and what is that I see just coming out of yonder mill? A clear white sheet without a stain ; and whence came this? "I am the son of the old rag," saith he, "nay I am the identical rag that was but a few hours ago picked from the dung-heap." Oh! strange ! Doth purity come out of impurity, and doth this beauty, this utility come out of that which was neither comely nor useful, but which men loathed, and cast away as a worthless thing? See here, brethren, the picture of yourselves ; your bodies are like rags, put away into this vast dung-hill earth, and there buried, but the angel shall come and sort you, body to its body, the righteous to the righteous and the wicked to the wicked, they shall come together, bone to his bone, and flesh to his flesh ; and what do I see? I behold a body like unto an angel, with eyes of fire, and a face like the brightness of the sun, and wings like lightening for swiftness. Whence art thou, thou bright spirit? I am he that was buried, I am that thing that once was worms' meat, but now I am glorious through the name of Jesus, and through the power of God. You have there before you a picture of the resurrection, a homely picture it is true, but one which may vividly convey the idea to homely minds.
To use yet a fresh figure, I see a beggar passing a rich man's door ; that poor wretch is covered with filth, his garments are hanging about him in pieces as if the wind would blow all away, and drive both man and garments amongst the rags upon the dunghill. How he shivers, how he seeks to pull about him that scant cloak which will not meet around his loins, and will not shield him from the blast. As for his shoes, they are indeed old and clouted, and all his garments are of such a sort that one never could know the original, for they have been mended and patched again. He is freely invited to come into the rich man's hall ; we will not tell you what is done in the meantime, but we shall see him come out of that door again, and would you know him? Would you believe that he is the same man? He has been washed and cleansed ; on his back there hangs the imperial purple, while on his head glitters a brilliant crown ; his feet are shod with silver, and on his hands there are rings of gold. About the paps he wears a golden girdle, and as he comes abroad bright spirits wait on him and do him honor ; angels wait to be his servants, and think it to be their highest pleasure to fly to do his will. Is this the same man, and is this the same dress? It is the same. By some marvelous might, rather by a divine energy, God has received this beggar, taken him into the inner chamber of the grave ; has washed him from all imperfections ; and now he comes out as one of the princes of the blood royal of heaven. And as is his nature, such is his apparel ; as is his dignity, such is his estate, and such the company of servants who wait upon him.
Not to multiply illustrations, we will use but one more. I see before me an old and battered cup, which many a black lip hath touched, out of which many a villain's throat has received moisture. It is battered and covered over with filth. Who could tell what metal it is? It is brought in and given to the silversmith ; he no sooner receives it than he begins to break it into pieces ; he dashes it into shivers again and again ; he pounds it until he has broken it, and then puts it into his fining pot and melts it. Now you begin to see it sparkle again, and by and by he beats it out and fashions it into a goodly chalice, out of which a king may drink. Is this the same? the very same thing. This glorious cup ; is this the old battered silver we saw just now? silver, did I say, it looked like battered filth.—Yes, it is the same, and we who are here below like vessels, alas ! too unfit for the Master's use ; vessels which have even given comfort to the evil ones, and helped to do the work of Satan, we shall be put into the furnace of the grave, and be there melted down and fused and fashioned into a glorious wine-cup that shall stand upon the banqueting table of the Son of God.
I have thus sought to illustrate the change, and now I will occupy your attention but one or two minutes on another thought which seems to lie within the range of my text. We have had the real identity under the glorious transformation. I bring you back to a thought kindred to the first. There will be in the bodies of the righteous an undoubted personality of character. If you sow barley, it will not produce wheat ; if you sow tares, they will not spring up in the form of rye. Every grain has its own peculiar form : God hath given to every seed his own body. So my brothers and sisters, there are differences among us here ; no two bodies are precisely alike : there are marks on our countenances, and in our bodily conformation, that show that we are different. We are of one blood, but not of one fashion. Well when we are put into the grave we shall crumble back, and come to the same elements ; but when we rise we shall every one of us rise diverse from the other. The body of Paul shall not produce a body precisely like Peter. Nor shall the flesh of Andrew bring forth a new body like that of the sons of Zebedee ; but to every seed his own body. In the case of our blessed Lord and Master, you will remember that when he rose himself from the dead, he preserved his personality ; there were still the wounds in his hands, and still there was the spear-mark in his side. I do not doubt that when he underwent his transfiguration, and at the time of his ascension up to heaven, he still retained the marks of his wounds. For do we not sing, and is not our song based upon Scripture?
He looks like a lamb that had been slain,
And wears his priesthood still.
So, brethren, though of course we shall retain no weakness, nothing which will cause us sorrow, yet every Christian will retain his individuality ; as will he like and yet unlike all his fellows. As we know Isaiah from Jeremy here, so shall we know them above. As I differ from you here, if we too shall together praise God, there shall be some difference between us above. Not the difference in failings, but the difference in the perfections of the form of the new body. I sometimes think martyrs will wear their scars. And why should they not? It were a loss to them if they should lose their honors. Perhaps they shall wear their ruby crowns in Paradise, and we shall know then—
"Foremost 'mongst the sons of light,
'Midst the bright one doubly bright."
Perhaps the men who came from the catacombs of Rome will wear some sort of pallor on their brow that will show that they came from darkness, where they saw not the light of the sun. Perhaps the minister of Christ, though he shall not need to say to his fellows, "know the Lord," shall still be chief among the tellers out of the ways of God. Perhaps the sweet singer of Israel shall still be foremost in the choir of the golden harps, and loudest among them that shall lead the strain. And if these be fancies, yet am I sure that one star differeth from another star in glory. Orion shall not be confounded with Arcturus, nor shall Mazzaroth for a moment be confounded with Orion. We shall all be separate and distinct. Perhaps we shall each one have our constellation there, as we shall cluster into our own societies, and gather around those whom we best have known on earth. Personality will be maintained. I do not doubt but what you will know Isaiah in heaven ; and you will recognize the great preachers of the ancient Christian church ; you will be able to speak with Chrysostom, and will talk with Whitefield. It may be you shall have for your companions those who were your companions here ; those with whom you take sweet counsel, and walk to the house of God shall be with you there, and you shall know them, and with transporting joy you shall there together tell your former trials and ancient triumphs, and the glories you are alike made to share.
Treasure up, then, these things, the identity of your body after its glorious transformation, and, at the same time, the personality which will prevail.
The things I have already spoken should make the children of God happy. At Stratford-on-Bow, in the days of Queen Mary, there was once a stake erected for the burning of two martyrs, one of them a lame man, the other a blind man. Just when the fire was lit, the lame man hurled away his staff, and turning round said to the blind man, "Courage, brother, this fire will cure us both." So can the righteous say of the grave, "Courage, the grave will cure us all ; we shall leave our infirmities behind us." What patience this should give us to endure all our trials, for they are not of long duration. They are but as the carvings of the graver's tool, shaping these rough blocks of clay, to bring them into the right form and shape, that they may bear the image of the heavenly.
THE CLOSET OF PRAYER.
TUNE—My rest is in heaven.
My closet, my temple, my social retreat,
It's there with my Saviour in concert I meet;
How many the objects inviting me there,
To pour out my soul in the order of prayer.
How sweet is the morning, how bright is the view,
When the fields and the woodlands are dripping with
dew,
The fragrance of blossoms perfuming the air,
Invites to my closet, invites me to prayer.
When tempests arise and stormy winds blow,
And all the deep future is darkness and woe,
I have a pavilion to which I repair,
And rest in my closet, my temple of prayer.
When the shades of the twilight spread over the lawn,
The day is retiring and evening comes on,
The voice of the songsters that slips through the air,
Invites to my closet, invites me to prayer.
When shades of great darkness come over my heart,
And I fear that my God is about to depart,
I come to my closet and find him still there,
His hands filled with blessings in answer to prayer.
I bless the glad day when his grace I first felt,
His mercy then saved me and cancelled my guilt;
I will visit my closet and never despair,
It was there my Redeemer first answered my prayer.
“Duty calls, but I have no Feeling.”
“I HAVE no feeling on the subject of religion, and therefore I can do nothing. Of the truth of Christianity I have no doubt; of its infinite importance to me personally I am fully persuaded. But as for making any decision, which will bind me to the immediate duty of prayer and other kindred duties, I never can, until I have some feeling on the subject to begin with. It’s but solemn mockery, the very idea of which I cannot tolerate.”
So said an impenitent friend of mine, a few days since, who had spent some forty years in sinful neglect of God. I was urging him, with all the powers of persuasion which I could call into exercise, to decide that question of questions:— “Shall it henceforth be your will, to do all God’s will?”
Conscience was pressing the obligation of a full consent that God shall reign; a devoted Christian wife was making full proof of the power of sanctified, tender affection for a beloved husband; aye, and more than all, the Spirit—the last messenger sent from heaven to save the lost, was working within him mightily to will and to do God’s will—to do it without condition and without compromise.
When I first spoke to him on the subject, he seemed instantly to be deeply agitated. He quickly turned his face from me, and stood looking out of the window, as if wishing to see some one in the street, but in reality, to calm and conceal the deep heavings of a restless heart. Tears unbidden flowed freely.
And yet his plea was, “I can’t pledge to do what God requires, for I have no heart in it. As for being a hypocrite, I never will.” In the same community are numbers of others who persist in disobedience, on the same plea—no feeling!
This friend, of whom I speak, was assured that the requisite to please God, is not a given kind nor degree of emotion, but simply this: sincere, honest obedience. A full consent to be any thing, and do anything which God requires, as honestly as you know how.
It was said to him:— “If you need a more hearty interest and deeper emotion, the only way to get them, is to fix your thoughts upon God—his character and claims, and move right onward in the path of duty. If you need any thing of God, honestly ask it. If he requires you to do any thing, do it.
Such a course will deepen and perpetuate the flow of feeling in the heart. But to refuse to decide, when God calls for decision—to stand still when he says, “Go forward!” is only fitted to make the heart as bleak and barren as the snow-clad mountains around us.
At last, he said: “Feeling or no feeling, henceforth duty is mine! God is right and I am wrong. Saved or lost, I will call upon his name!” With123this purpose fully formed, he went from the evening lecture to his fireside. There he called upon the name of the Lord in the presence of his household. He said that it seemed to him that every passage of scripture, which he had ever read was pressing him, like a mill-stone, to yield to God.
It was the joyful crisis. Salvation came to that house. When willing to consent that God shall be God, he had no occasion to complain of any lack of emotion,
Reader, are you waiting for more feeling before you begin to serve Jesus Christ? Then let me ask,
1. Are you sure that more feeling is needed? You may not be aware of the depth of your present emotions.
2. Are you taking the only course, which is fitted to soften your emotions?
Refuse to pray, and you may never feel. Continue to disobey, and you will not only never feel as you wish to; you will never enter heaven. Consent at once to do all the will of God.—Ob. Evangelist.
Sanctified Affliction.
DURING the siege of Sebastopol, a Russian shell buried itself in the side of a hill, without the city, and opened a spring. A little fountain bubbled forth where the cannon shot had fallen, and during the remainder of the siege afforded to the thirsty troops who were stationed in that vicinity an abundant supply of pure, cold water. Thus the missile of death from an enemy, under the direction of an overruling Providence, proved an almoner of life to the parched and weary soldiery of the allies.
So it is often with afflictions, which spring not out of the ground, but are sent down by the Father of Lights, that we may be made partakers of his holiness. They may come, as if from an enemy, in the various forms of forked lightning, the devastating tornado, the devouring fire, the fell swoop of disease, the loss of property, the death of those we love and cherish most. Indeed, no one of such calamities can be construed as a judicial visitation, without trenching upon the prerogatives of Jehovah. But each has its blessings in disguise, from that God who hides himself in the works of nature in his daily providence, and in the on-goings of his grace. Be stricken as we may, let our spirits be dried up, so that like Job, we may say, "How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone, till I swallow down my spittle?" yet the eye of a normal faith will not fail to detect the out-gushings of the fountain of life, in the midst of all these apparently unpropitious events. A Christian alchemy will change the flood of death to the tide of a new life; the flame of fire to the lamp of a truer life; the pestilential vapor to the breath of a diviner life.
"There are sufferings," eloquently says Frederika Bremer, "sufferings to the death which are not bitter, which possess their own great, their marvelous enjoyment." And Lady Ravenscourt, in her letters—beautifully referring to the providence of God—remarks, "He has not suffered you to walk smoothly down the stream of time; but by large and rough billows has dashed you on the promises."
And how does the heart of the experienced Christian respond to the sentiments of these gifted minds? It is the peculiar privilege of the child of God, while he sits enveloped with the flowering branches of the willow and the cypress, to look through the leaflet interstices to the sunshine around, or to the sparkling stars above him. It is the privilege of the children of God, in their loneliest moments and in their saddest hours, to receive visits of the angels, who are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of salvation. Joy and sorrow are wisely commingled in life, blending the light and shade most skillfully.—Still Hour.
FOR Christ, or against him, we must be. Many try to be neutral, but they cannot be. Many profess to be on the Lord's side who are not. How can we decide? By what means can we ascertain? Who has the heart? With whom are our sweetest and warmest thoughts? Who has our best energies? Who can command our time, our property, our talents? If we are on the Lord's side, we have given him our hearts, and we often present them to him afresh. If we are on the Lord's side, our thoughts are with him, and our sweetest thoughts are of him. If we are on the Lord's side, we have consecrated ourselves and all we have to his service, praise, honor, and glory. If we are on the Lord's side, we are against sin,—we have no friendship with the world,—we are opposed to all Christ-dishonoring errors. We desire to bear his image, breathe his spirit, do his will, and please him well in all things. Brethren, let us be decided,—so decided that there may be no possibility of persons being mistaken in us, but that every one that is acquainted with us may see at once that we are on the Lord's side. We cannot honor God, we cannot conquer Satan, we cannot crucify the flesh, we cannot make a good impression on the world, without decision. Let us therefore wear the Lord's livery,—let us wait on our Master continually,—let us throw our whole hearts into his cause. Let us take his friends for our friends, his foes for our foes, his cause for our cause, and make his honor and glory the chief end of our lives. He has told us that no man can serve two opposite masters, nor can we serve God and Mammon. Let us then be on the Lord's side always, everywhere, and in all things; so shall we be happy, so shall we be holy, and so shall we be honorable.
He that is not with me is against me; and he that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad.'—Matt. xii. 30.
Israel Borrowing of the Egyptians.
By Carpenter
AND I will give this people favor in the sight of the Egyptians: and it shall come to pass that, when ye go, ye shall not go empty: but every woman shall borrow of her neighbor, and of her that sojourneth in her house, jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment: and ye shall put them upon your sons, and upon your daughters; and ye shall spoil the Egyptians. Exodus iii, 21, 22.
From chap. xii, 35, 36, we learn that the Israelites complied with the injunction here given; and as our version reads, "they spoiled the Egyptians." This narrative has given rise to several objections; the conduct of the Israelites has been characterized as ungenerous, dishonest; and as it was induced by the command of God, unbelievers have not been sparing in their remarks upon that also. It may be confidently affirmed, however, that the texts, properly understood, are open to no objection, and that the command, and the compliance therewith, may be shown to be perfectly just. In the first place the Hebrew word, which our translators have rendered borrow, simply signifies to ask, to require, to demand. In the three passages relative to the transaction, (chap. iii; 22; xi. 2; xii. 35) the Septuagint has shall ask; and in the two former, the Vulgate has, shall demand; and so, indeed, it was in the English Bible, till the edition of Becke, in 1549; Geneva, Baker's and some others, having asked. The injunction, therefore, was, that the children of Israel should ask or demand of the Egyptians a recompense for their past services; or, it may be a restoration only of that property of which they had been despoiled. It seems manifest, as Mr. Bryant has suggested, from the expression used in chap. xii. 33, "They sent them out of the land in haste," that the Egyptians never expected or wished for the return of the Israelites; and, consequently, they could not expect the return of the jewels and raiment.—Carpenter.
Prayer Answered.
By M. Hayden
In one of my pastoral visits a few days ago, I stopped at the house of one of our sisters, and found there an aged sister whom I had never seen before. I did not stop to inquire what church she belonged to, for I was too deeply interested in conversation, to think of that. There was no difficulty in finding out that she had faith in the Lord our Saviour; for she had attained to a full assurance of her acceptance with Christ. And surely, if an answer to prayer is an evidence that we are Christ's, then the following incident in her experience is full proof in her case:
Her son had desired for several years to go to sea, much against the wish of his kind parents. They had succeeded in preventing it, until he was now of age. His mother, feeling that it could no longer be prevented, gave him up to the Lord. Nothing had been said for a long time, however, about his going to sea, until one day, when the parents were preparing for a journey, the son said to his mother, "Mother, when you get home, you will not find George here." He would tell her nothing about it. Grief,
"Which none but he that feels it knows,"
rose like a flood, and filled her heart, but that heart was fixed, trusting in God.
When they were some distance from home, they ascertained that George had actually gone. This news entirely overcame the father, and dropping his lines from his hands, he cried most bitterly, saying, "George is lost, we shall never see him again!" The mother drove home, and though her husband sunk upon the bed in despair, she laid the matter before the Lord. All night she agonized in prayer, until morning, when she said, "O Lord! if George cannot be saved any other way, bring him right in the midst of danger, spare his life, and send him home." She immediately received a presentiment that in less than a week's time she should receive an answer to her prayer.
Reader, behold the mercy of the Lord! That very night George was aboard a vessel; was swept overboard by a strong surge, and was drawn from this watery grave by a rope. Something then told him, "George, you have been saved by a mother's prayers; now go home and obey your parents." He obeyed, and in less than one week's time the father's lost son was returned, and the mother's presentiment fulfilled. Here is another proof of the power of importunate prayer. That long night was not spent in vain; for George was not only saved from this terrible death, but ere long was saved from the "wrath to come."
Parents, have you a child that has gone from you to seek his fortunes among strangers? Follow him by your prayers and they shall be like guardian spirits to protect him from sin and temptation, and lead him to Christ the Saviour of sinners.
I cannot but pity that young man who among strangers, has no friends to pray for him. I wish that the whole world were saints upon their knees, praying that I may be faithful to God and man. The closet is the place to approach your Maker. O that there were more closet prayers; then Christianity would have more power and success, and Christians, warming with the love of God, would behold, though perhaps after much trial and waiting, the fruit of their labors, nobly hanging from the limbs of the tree of providence.
M. Hayden.—Am. Baptist.
Clyde N. Y., Nov. 12, 1860.
Holy Aspiration
HOLY ASPIRATION.—After his recovery from an attack of disease in his early ministry, Dr. Kendrick wrote: "May I daily inquire, Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? Impart to me new grace every day. Let me not spend one idle day in the succeeding part of my life, nor a day in which I shall not know more of thee at the close of it, than at the beginning. Oh may I feel my constant dependence upon thy all-conquering grace."
ANOTHER CONTRAST.
By Editor
It is well for the cause of Truth to have divines speak to the point and in language which can be readily understood. It is too often the case that counsel is darkened by words without knowledge, and that the advocates of a popular error, by multitudes of words and long circumlocution, bewilder the common mind till the discrepancy between their teaching and the word of God can hardly be discerned. Views plainly expressed, in simple and direct language, can easily be brought to the law and the testimony, and tested thereby. Such is the following extract from a sermon by Spurgeon relative to the resurrection of the wicked and their future punishment. He says:
"When you die your spirit must suffer alone, that will be the beginning of hell; but your body must rise again, then this very flesh in which you have transgressed the laws of God, this very body must smart for it. It must lie in the fire and burn, and crack, and writhe throughout eternity. Your body will be raised incorruptible, otherwise the fire would consume it. It will become like the asbestos stone, which lies in the flame and yet is never consumed. If it were this flesh and blood it would soon die under the pangs we must endure, but it will be a body all but omnipotent. As I spoke of the righteous having such great power, so shall you have; but it will be power to agonize, power to suffer, power to die, and yet to live, uncrushed by the stern foot of death. Those members that have become instruments of lust, shall become instruments of hell. Rotting as they will do in the grave, they will nevertheless rise with a fiery immortality about them, and endure an eternity of agony and unutterable woe and punishment."
There is no mistaking the above. Mr. Spurgeon plainly declares that the wicked shall be raised incorruptible. But why endow them with incorruptibility? The necessity of the case at once gives answer. In the language of Mr. S. when speaking of the body, "Why, otherwise the fire would consume it!" and then, impliedly, what becomes of the immortality of the wicked, and the eternity of their sufferings? The question, then, is fairly opened. Will the wicked in their resurrection be endowed with incorruption? Popular theology, in order to maintain the integrity of its position, finds it necessary to contend that they will. It has therefore spoken out explicitly on the subject. The Bible, also, has spoken no less directly on the same point. Let us therefore bring them together, and test their agreement. Passing by the long contrast we might draw up between the future conditions of the righteous and the wicked, showing that the punishment of the wicked is not eternal life, but is always contrasted with it as an opposite, and that those only who seek for immortality will ever possess it, we turn to Gal. vi, 7, 8. In these verses we find the most solemn declaration that according to a man's life here, his fate shall be hereafter. "Be not deceived," says the apostle, "God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap; for he that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." The sowing time here spoken of is the present state; the exhortation and warning are in the present tense; and they are designed to impel us to a faithful discharge of our duty here, in view of the time of reaping which is in the future. By the reaping is brought to view the lot of both righteous and wicked in the future state; since it is only in that state that life everlasting is to be obtained. And now let it be marked that at the same time that those who sow to the Spirit (the righteous) reap life everlasting, those who sow to the flesh (the wicked) reap corruption! Language could not well be made to express more clearly that the wicked when they reap the future harvest for which they are sowing in this life, will have nothing about them incorruptible. They shall reap corruption. Yet says Mr. Spurgeon, Your body shall be raised incorruptible. Reader, which do you believe?
In this age of strong delusion, when the fear of man is supplanting the fear of God, and a blind reverence for human tradition is making void his word, we exhort you to decide with care. Decide in favor of that word which shall be found to stand, when the theories and inventions of men shall be swept into oblivion.