The Wesleyan Methodist Pulpit in Malvern, by Knowles King

Transcribed from the 1866 John Snow and Co. edition by David Price, email [email protected]

THE WESLEYAN METHODIST PULPIT IN MALVERN.

SERMONS
preached at
THE OPENING SERVICES
of the
WESLEYAN METHODIST CHAPEL,
In 1866,
AT MALVERN,
by

Rev. W. M. Punshon,

Rev. W. Arthur,

Rev. J. H. James,

Rev. C. Prest,

Rev. J. Priestley,

Rev. G. Smith,

Rev. G. Wood.

With a Preface by Knowles King.

LONDON:
JOHN SNOW & CO., IVY LANE,
paternoster row;
WARREN HALL & CO., CAMDEN ROAD.
1866.

to
RALPH BARNES GRINDROD,
of malvern,
m.d., ll.d., f.l.s., f.r.g.s., f.g.s., &c., &c.,
This Volume of Sermons
is respectfully inscribed,
in thankful acknowledgment of the learned
doctor’s great gift of healing;
but more especially of his large charity,
and high christian character.

PREFACE.

The Sermons which make up this volume were preached at Malvern, in 1866, at, and immediately after, the opening services of the Wesleyan Chapel there.

This beautiful and commodious building owes its erection to the piety and energy of the Rev. W. M. Punshon, who, in the year 1862, proposed by Lectures, and otherwise, to raise a fund for building Wesleyan Chapels in places of summer resort.

This proposition was well responded to by Mr. Punshon’s friends, and the Wesleyan public, and forty thousand pounds have already been expended in the erection of new Chapels at Ilfracombe, Dawlish, the Lizard, Brighton, Weymouth, Eastbourne, Walmer, Folkestone, Bournemouth, Blackpool, Lancing, Llandudus, Rhyl, Saltburn, Bray, Matlock, Malvern, Keswick, Bowness, and the Isle of Wight.  Others are in progress.

These Sermons are published with the consent of the several preachers, but it must be stated that they were preached without any view to publication, and now appear in print, nearly word for word, as they were delivered, extempore, from the pulpit.  Some of them, indeed, have never been committed to writing by the authors; for instance, of the beautiful sermon of Mr. Arthur, “not a word” was written by him either before or since its delivery.

This will account for the fact that the subjects are not treated with any degree of scientific exactness, as essays might require; but in a manner intended to suggest useful thoughts to serious audiences.

Although myself of the Church of England, I have had many opportunities, during the past thirty-five years, of hearing discourses from Wesleyan ministers, and making personal acquaintance with them; and I believe the following Sermons are a fair specimen of the Wesleyan teaching in this country.

Why should not the Church of England and the great Wesleyan body be united?  Circumstances are entirely altered since Wesley, and his coadjutors, were compelled to run away from the Church of England.  Now, thank God, the majority of our clergy, like the Wesleyan ministers, are zealous, and energetic, and evangelical men; popular in the style of their addresses, distinguished by the vigour of their pastoral ministrations, and incessant in them; paternal in their care of the poor, of broad and social Christian sympathies, and earnestly pursuing the secular and religious education of the young.  Why should not the priests of the Church of England and the ordained Wesleyan ministers be permitted to exchange pulpits as they may think fit?  There is little danger that a Wesleyan minister would proclaim unsound doctrine.  Such an evil is much more shortly and sharply rectified by Wesleyan discipline, which the Courts of Law uphold, than by any mere legal action to which the Church of England is bound.

May it please God, by His Holy Spirit, to make these Sermons effectual for the spreading of His truth and the quickening of His people.

KNOWLES KING.

Sidmouth House, Malvern,
December 3, 1866.

* * * * *

If any profit shall accrue from this publication, it will be given to the religious institutions at Malvern.

THE LIVELY STONES.
REV. W. MORLEY PUNSHON.

“Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.”—1 Peter ii. 5.

There is a manifest reference in the fourth verse to the personage alluded to in Psalm cxviii. 22, 23: “The stone which the builders refused is become the head stone of the corner.  This is the Lord’s doing; it is marvellous in our eyes.”  And this passage is applied by Christ to himself in Matthew xxi. 42: “Jesus saith unto them, Did ye never read in the scriptures, The stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner: this is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.”  The Apostle therefore places the beginning of any connection with Christianity in coming to Christ, and assures believers that in their union with Him alone consists the fulness of their dignity and privilege.  And there is no truth that will more readily be acknowledged, or receive a heartier acquiescence from the heart of a believer.  What could we do without Jesus?  In our every necessity He is our “refuge and strength,” in our perils He compasses us about with songs of deliverance, his life is our perfect example, his death is our perfect atonement.  Well might the Apostle interrupt the course of his argument with the grateful apostrophe, “Unto you, therefore, which believe, He is precious;” and exhort them “that ye should show forth the praises of Him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.”  The text presents us with topics of meditation worthy of our prayerful study, as it reveals to us—

I.—The Character.
II.—The Privilege.
III.—The Duty of Believers.

I.  You observe that in the text believers are presented as a spiritual house and a holy

priesthood; two different illustrations, which, if you translate the word here rendered “house” by the more sacred word “temple,” will be found to have the same religious significance, and a close connection with each other.  Coming to Christ as the foundation-stone of the building, “disallowed indeed of men, but chosen of God, and precious,” the Church rises into a spiritual temple.  From Christ, the great High Priest, “consecrated after no carnal commandment,” believers rise into a holy priesthood by a majestic investiture that is higher than the ordination of Aaron.  There are two points in the character of the ransomed Church which are illustrated in these words:—spirituality and holiness.

Take the first thought, spirituality.  They are lively or living stones, built up into a spiritual house.  Any one who thoughtfully observes the successive ages of the world’s history, will not fail to discover that each generation of men has in some important particulars progressed upon its predecessor.  There has been not only an accumulation of the treasures of thought and knowledge but an increase of the capacity to produce them.  Hence in every age there has been a higher appreciation of freedom, a quickened enterprise of enquiry, the stream of legislation has refined and broadened in its flow, improvement has extended its acreage of enclosure, and principles proved and gained have become part of the property of the world.  Our nature has had its mental childhood.  The established laws of mind admit only of a gradual communication of knowledge.  It was necessary, therefore, that men should be first stored with elementary principles, then advanced to axioms and syllables, and afterwards introduced into the fellowship of the mystery of Divine truth.  Hence any reflective mind, pondering upon the dealings of God with men, will discover a progressive development of revelation, adjusted with careful adaptation to the preparedness of different ages of mankind.  In the first ages God spake to men in sensible manifestations, in visions of the night, by audible voice, in significant symbol.  As time advanced the sensible manifestations became rarer, and were reserved for great and distinguishing occasions.  From the lips of a lawgiver, in the seer’s vision, and in the prophet’s burden of reproof or consolation, the Divine spake, and the people heard and trembled.  At length, in the fulness of time, the appeal to the senses was altogether discarded; the age of spirituality began, and in the completed revelation men read, as they shall read for ever, the Divine will in the perfected and royal word.  And this progress, which appears through all creation as an inseparable condition of the works of God, present in everything, from the formation of a crystal to the establishment of an economy, is seen also in the successive dispensations under which man has been brought into connection with heaven.  You can trace through all dispensations the essential unity of revealed religion.  There have never been but two covenants of God with man—the covenant of works and the covenant of grace; never but two religions—the religion of innocence, and the religion of mercy.  Through all economies there run the same invariable elements of truth.  The first promise contains within itself the germ of all subsequent revelation—the Abrahamic covenant, the separation of Israel, all the rites and all the prophecies, are but the unfoldings of its precious meaning.  Sacrifice for the guilty, mediation for the far-off and wandering, regeneration for the impure, salvation through the merit of another; these are the inner life of the words, “the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent’s head.”  The gospel therefore was preached unto Abraham.  Moses felt the potent influence of “the reproach of Christ.”  David describeth the blessedness of “the man unto whom God imputeth not iniquity.”  “Of this salvation the prophets enquired and searched diligently.”  Christ was the one name of the world’s constant memory, “to Him gave all the prophets witness,” and from the obscurest to the clearest revelation all testified in tones which it was difficult to misunderstand.  “Neither is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved.”  The patriarchal dispensation had no elaborate furniture nor gorgeous ritualism.  The father was the priest of the household, and as often as the firstling bled upon the altar it typified the faith of them all in a better sacrifice to come.  Then came the Jewish dispensation with its array of services and external splendour, with its expressive symbolism and its magnificent temple; and then, rising into a higher altitude, the fulness of time came, and Christianity—the religion not of the sensuous but of the spiritual, not of the imagination awed by scenes of grandeur nor bewildered by ceremonies of terror, but of the intellect yielding to evidence, of the conscience smitten by truth, of the heart taken captive by the omnipotence of love—appeared for the worship of the world.  Our Saviour, in his conversation with the Samaritan woman, inaugurated, so to speak, the dispensation of the spiritual, “The hour cometh, and now is,”—there is the moment of instalment, when the great bell of time might have pealed at once a requiem for the past and a welcome to the grander future, “when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth.”  Requiring spiritual worship, it was natural that God should have “built up a spiritual house,” wherein he should dwell in statelier presence than in “houses made with hands.”  Hence there is now rising upon earth, its masonry unfinished, but advancing day by day, a spiritual temple more magnificent than the temple of Solomon, costlier than the temple of Herod.  “Destroy this temple,” said the Saviour to his wondering listeners, “and in three days I will raise it up.”  “Forty and six years was this temple in building, and will thou rear it up in three days?”  “But He spake of the temple of His body.”  “What, know ye not that your bodies are the members of Christ?”  Yes! believers everywhere are stones in the spiritual house, broken perhaps into conformity, or chiselled into beauty by successive strokes of trial; and wherever they are, in the hut or in the ancestral hall, in the climates of the snow or of the sun, whether society hoot them or honour them, whether they wrap themselves in delicate apparelling, or, in rugged homespun, toil all day for bread, they are parts of the true temple which God esteems higher than cloistered crypt or stately fane, and the top stone of which shall hereafter be brought on with joy.

The second representation of a believer’s character is holiness, “a holy priesthood.”  In the Jewish dispensation the word was understood to mean no more than an outward and visible separation unto God; the priests in the temple and the vessels of their ministry were said to be ceremonially “holy.”  But more is implied in the term as it occurs in the text and kindred passages than a mere ritual and external sanctity.  It consists in the possession of that mind which was also in Christ Jesus, in the reinstatement in us of that image of God which was lost by the disobedience of the fall.  You will remember numerous scriptures in which holiness, regarded as the supreme devotion of the heart

and service to God, is brought out as at once a requirement and a characteristic of a Christian.  “What manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness?”  “Be ye holy, for I am holy,” “as He which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation.”  “God hath not called us to uncleanness but unto holiness.”  “Having these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God.”  And it is absolutely necessary that this grace should be cultivated if we would either fulfil the mission of our priesthood or abide in the Divine presence for ever.  Holiness is requisite whether to see the Lord or to walk before men unto all well-pleasing; and as living witnesses, transcripts of His holiness, enabled by his grace to maintain purity of heart and life, God has promised to establish those who put their trust in Him.  Some Christians have been deterred from the search after this blessing of heaven by the mistakes of those who have endeavoured to expound it, or by the hypocrisy of those who have assumed its profession that they might the better sin.  It is marvellous how many different views of it have at times obtained currency in the world.  By some it has been resolved into a sort of refined Hinduism, a state in which the soul is “unearthed, entranced, beatified” by devout contemplation into a pietistic rapture; others have deemed that the best way to secure it was a retirement from the vexing world, a recreant forsaking of the active duties of life, as if it consisted in immunity from temptation rather than in victory over it.  Others have placed it in surpliced observance or in monastic vow; an equivocal regard to patterns of things in the heavens which common men mistake for idolatry.  Others again, reversing the old Pythagorean maxim, and wearing the image of God upon their ring, have expressed it by unworthy familiarity, a continual adverting to the gifts of the spirit, and the experience of the soul in the flippancy of ordinary conversation, as did some of the fanatics of the Commonwealth.  Others have represented it as a perpetual austerity, an investiture of our family circles with all the hues of the sepulchre, and a flinging upon the face of society the frown of a rebuking fretfulness, which would make the good of an archangel evil spoken of in this censorious world.  But the scriptural holiness which believers long for, and which the Church is to spread through the land, is not a necessary adjunct of any or all of these.  It is not the acting of a part in a drama, but the forth-putting of a character in life, the exhibition in harmonious action of the humble love and filial fear with which men “work out their salvation.”  “A holy priesthood.”  It is remarkable of this spiritual priesthood that it descends in no particular succession, nor limits its privileges to any exclusive genealogy.  The holiness which is at once its distinctiveness and its hallowing comprehends and can sanctify all relations of life.  Let the minister have it, and the love of Christ, his supremest affection, will prompt his loathing of sin and his pity for sinners; will fire his zeal and make his words burn, and will often urge him to cast himself upon the mercy-seat that his labours may not be in vain.  Let the merchant, or the manufacturer, or the man of business have it, and it need neither bate his diligence nor hold him back from riches; but it will smite down his avarice and restrain his greed of gold; it will make him abhor the fraud that is gainful, and eschew the speculation that is hazardous, and shrink from the falsehood that is customary, and check the competition that is selfish; and it will utterly destroy the deceptive hand-bill, and the cooked accounts, and the fictitious capital, as well the enormous dishonesties as the little lies of trade.  Let this holiness actuate the parent, and in his strong and gentle rule he will mould the hearts of his children heavenward, and train them in the admonition of the Lord, until, a commanded household, comely in their filial love, they shall reverence their Father who is in heaven.  Let the child be impressed with holiness, and he will have higher motives to obedience than he can gather from the constraint of duty or from the promptings of affection.  Let the master be holy, and while he upholds authority he will dispense blessing.  Let the servant be holy, and service will be rendered with cheerfulness, “not with eye-service as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing God.”  Let the man be holy, and vigorous health and lofty intellect and swaying eloquence and quenchless zeal will all be offered to God.  Let the woman be holy, and patient prayer will linger round the cross, and ardent hope will haunt the envied sepulchre, and pitying tenderness will wail on the way to Calvary, and the deep heart-love will forget all selfish solicitudes in the absorbing question, “Where have they laid my Lord?”  Let the world be holy! and the millennium has come, and wrong ceases for ever, and the tabernacle of God is with men, and earth’s music rivals heaven’s.  Brethren, let us seek this blessing for ourselves.  There, at the foot of the Throne, let us plead the promise, “I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean.”  Imagination, intellect, memory, conscience, will;—sanctify them all.  “Then will we teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto Thee.”  It is done, surely it is done.  The hands are upon us now.  We kneel for the diviner baptism, for the effectual and blessed ordination.  Listen, the word has spoken, “Ye are an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.”

II.—Certain blessings are presented to us in the text as the heritage of this spiritual and consecrated Church.  Increase and acceptance.  The spiritual house is to be built up firm and consolidated on the true foundation.  The services of the holy priesthood are to be “acceptable to God through Jesus.”  Take the first thought.  “Ye are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.”  The fact of God’s constant supervision over his Church and care for its stability and extension is one that is impressed with earnest repetition upon the pages of his word.  “Thine eyes shall see Jerusalem a quiet habitation, a tabernacle that shall not be taken down; not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be removed, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken, but there the glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams.”  “Then shall thou see and flow together, and thine heart shall fear and be enlarged, because the abundance of the sea shall be converted unto thee, the forces of the Gentiles shall come unto thee.”  “Then shall the mountain of the Lord’s house be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow unto it.”  “As I live, saith the Lord, thou shalt surely clothe thee with them all as with an ornament, and bind them on thee as a bride doeth.”  From these passages, and many others breathing the same spirit, we may legitimately infer that it is the purpose of God that the kingdom of Messiah shall be universal; that the Church shall increase in steady and cumulative progression, and

realize in herself all the “glorious things” which by the holy prophets were “spoken of the city of God.”  And in this matter God has not left himself without a witness.  The present existence of the Church, after it has encountered and outlived all varieties of opposition, is in itself a proof which even its enemies, if they were not stupid and indocile learners, might ere this have discovered, that the eternal God is its refuge, and that the Highest will establish it for ever.  From its institution it has had in the heart of every man a natural and inveterate enemy.  The world has uniformly opposed it, and it has been unable to repel that opposition with weapons out of the world’s armoury; for it is forbidden to rely upon the strength of armies or upon the forces of external power.  Fanatics have entered into unholy combination.  Herod and Pilate have truced up a hollow friendship that they might work against it together.  Statesmen have elaborated their policy, and empires have concentrated their strength; the banners of battle have made hideous laughter with the wind; the blood of many sainted confessors has been shed like water, and the vultures of the crag have scented the unburied witnesses and have been ready to swoop down upon the slain.  And yet the Church is living, thriving, multiplying; while the names of its tyrants are forgotten, and their kingdoms, like snow-flakes on the wave, have left no trace behind.  No inborn strength will account for this mystery.  No advance of intelligence nor philosophic enlightenment will explain this phenomenon.  The acute observer, if faith have cleared his eye or opened an inner one, will go back for the explanation to an old and unforgotten promise, and will exclaim when he sees the Church struggling, but triumphant, like the fire-girdled bush at Horeb, “God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved; God shall help her, and that right early.”  And not only in the preservation from her enemies but in her unfailing progress among men in every age, has God shown that his purpose is to build up the spiritual house.  The rapid spread of the truth in primitive times was a marvel and a mystery to those who saw not the arm which upheld it and the power which bade it multiply and grow.  The whole history of gospel extension is indeed a succession of wonders.  It began with a Pentecost, local, but prophetic of a universal one, when “its sound shall have gone out into all the earth and its words to the end of the world.”  In the times of the Apostles, and of their immediate successors, it overleaped the boundaries of nation after nation, acquired lodgment and proselytes in the proudest cities, subjugated the barbaric magnificence of Asia Minor, had its students in the schools of Greece, and its servitors in the imperial household at Rome.  In its triumphant course it attacked idolatry in its strongholds, and that idolatry, though fortified by habit and prejudice, and sanctioned by classic learning, and entwined with the beautiful in architecture and song, and venerable for its wondrous age, and imperial in the dominion which it had exercised over a vassal world, fell speedily, utterly, and for ever.  And in each succeeding age, obscured sometimes by the clouds of persecution, and sometimes by the mists of error, its progress has been gradual and sure.  If it has not dissipated it has relieved the darkness.  It has stamped itself upon the institutions of mankind, and they reflect its image.  It has insinuated its leavening spirit where its outward expressions are not, and there is a vast amount of Christian and humanizing sentiment abroad, a sort of atmosphere breathed unconsciously by every man, whose air-waves break upon society with unfelt but influencing pressure, but its source is in the gospel of Christ.  The building rises still!  In distant parts of the great world-quarry stones of diverse hardness, and of diverse hue, but all susceptible of being wrought upon by the heavenly masonry, are every day being shaped for the temple.  Strikes among the workmen, or frost in the air, may suspend operations for awhile, but the building rises!  Often are the stones prepared in silence, as in the ancient temple-pile, with no sound of the chisel or the hammer.  The Sanballats and Tobiahs of discouragement and shame may deride the work and embarrass the labourers; but one by one the living stones, polished after the similitude of a palace, are incorporated into it.  Yes! the building rises, and it shall rise for ever.  God has promised increase to the Church, and her enemies cannot gainsay it.  From the more effectual blessing on churches already formed, from the reversal of the attainder, and the bringing into his patrimonial portion of the disinherited Jew, from the proclamation in all lands of the message of mercy, they shall throng into the city of our solemnities until “the waste and the desolate places, and the land of her destruction shall even now be too many, by reason of the inhabitants, and they that swallowed thee up shall be far away.”  What Christian heart, looking for this promised blessing, rejoices not with exceeding joy?  At the foundation of the second temple, amid the flare of trumpets and the clang of cymbals, while the young men rent the air with gladness, there were choking memories in many a Levite heart that chastened the solemn joy and were relieved only by passionate tears; but at the upbuilding of the “spiritual house” the young and the old may feel an equal gladness, or if some memories steal over the spirit of primitive days, and of the joys of a forfeited Eden, they may be stilled by the memory of the grander and abiding truth, that—

“In Christ the tribes of Adam boast,
More blessings than their father lost.”

Brethren, have you this joy?  Does it pleasure you that the building rises?  Do your hearts thrill with gladness as you hear of accessions to the Church and the conversion of sinners to God?  Do you love the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob?  Have a care if you feel not this sympathy, for ye are none of his.  If it is within you a living, earnest emotion, give it play.  “Let the children of Zion be joyful in their King.”

The second privilege is the acceptance of her service and sacrifice through Jesus Christ.—To us, who are mean and unworthy, it is no small privilege to be assured of welcome when we come to God.  To us, who are guilty and erring, it is no small privilege that we can come by Jesus Christ.  The hope of acceptance is necessary to sustain the heart of the worshipper, which without it would soon sink into despair.  The apostle, you perceive, places the ground of the acceptance of our services upon our union with Jesus Christ.

“Vain in themselves their duties were,
  Their services could never please,
Till join’d with thine, and made to share
  The merits of thy righteousness.”

He is careful to impress upon us that in our holiest moments no less than when we are wayward and criminal, our trust for personal safety, and our only chance of blessing are from our exalted Daysman, who can lay his hand upon us both.  Our praise would be unmeaning minstrelsy, our prayers a litany unheard and obsolete, all our devotional service a bootless trouble, but that “yonder the Intercessor stands and pours his all-prevailing prayer.”  It is “through Him we both,” the Jews who crucified Him and the Gentiles, who by their persevering neglect of Him

crucify Him afresh, “have access by one spirit unto the Father.”  The words of promise touching the acceptance of the worship of the Church are explicit and numerous.  “They shall come up with acceptance on mine altar, and I will glorify the house of my glory.”  “That I should be the minister of Jesus Christ to the Gentiles, ministering the gospel of God, that the offering up of the Gentiles might be acceptable, being sanctified by the Holy Ghost.”  “In the place where my name is recorded, there will I accept.”  “In every nation he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him.”  Oh, comforting thought, when I am convinced of my own sinfulness, and restless and disquieted wander about in distress, and lie down in sorrow, there is One who hears the stammered entreaty, and smiles a pardon to my agonized cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner.”  When in my daily life I encounter a terrible temptation, a temptation so strong that it tries my strength to the uttermost, and gives my heart a struggle and a bitterness which no stranger may know, there is One who marks my resistance and counts my enduring faith for righteousness, and whispers me that by and bye, he that overcometh shall wear the conqueror’s crown.  When in some moment of unguardedness I grieve the good Spirit, and become unwatchful, and in remorseful penitence I could almost weep my life away, the offering of my contrition is accepted, and there is One who heals my backsliding and soothes my fretting sorrow.  My prayers offered in secret, pleading for purity and blessing, my praises, when the full heart, attuned, gives its note of blessing to swell the choral harmony, wherewith all God’s works praise Him, the active hand, the ready tongue, the foot swift and willing in his cause, the service of labour, the service of suffering,—all these, if I offer them rightly and reliantly, are acceptable unto God by Jesus Christ.  There is no room for distrust or for misgiving.  I need not fear that, after all my efforts, I shall be met with an averted glance, or with a cold denial.  The promise standeth sure, “To that man will I look.”  Oh, if there had been a pause after this announcement, how would the eager solicitudes of men have gathered round it, and waited for the coming of the words.  Where wilt thou direct thy look of favour?  To him who is noble, or wealthy, or intelligent?  To him who with scrupulous rigidness fasts twice in the week, and gives tithes of all that he possesses?  To him whose quick sensibility revels in all expressions of the beautiful, or whose graceful impulse moves him in all works of charity?  No, to none of these, but, “To him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit; and that trembleth at my word.”

III.—If there be this assurance of acceptance, how solemn and resistless is the call to duty, “To offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.”  Sacrifice, properly speaking, is the infliction of death upon a living creature for the purposes of religious worship, but this sacrifice and offering, happily, God requires not at our hands.  No filleted firstling need now be led to the altar, the flocks of Kedar and the rams of Nebaioth may browse quietly in their pastures, for the Great Sacrifice has been offered, and it abides—“one sacrifice for sins for ever,” needing no repetition, one for ever! unexhausted in its virtue, and unfailing in the blessing it confers.  But in a secondary sense the recognized and fulfilled duties of the Church are fitly called sacrifices, for they cannot be properly discharged without the alienation from ourselves of something that was our own, and its presentation, whether time, ease, property or influence, to God.  Brethren, to this duty you are called to-day.  The name you bear has bound you.  The holy priesthood must offer up spiritual sacrifices.  Suffered to become Christians, permitted, a race adulterous and dishonoured as you were, to be united to Christ and partakers of his precious grace, the spell of these high privileges enforces every obligation, and hallows every claim.  Ye are not your own.  First offer yourselves upon the altar, renew your covenant in this the house of our solemnities, on this the instalment of our great Christian festival.  It will be easy to devote the accessories, when the principal bestowment has been rendered.  I claim from you this sacrifice for God.  Yourselves, not a half-hearted homage, not a divided service, not a stray emotion, not a solitary faculty; yourselves, you all, and all of you; your bodies, with their appliances for service; your souls, with their ardour of affection; intellect, with its grasp and power; life, with its activity and earnestness; endowment, with its manifold gifts; influence, with its persuasive beseechings.  I claim them all.  “I beseech you therefore, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.”  This consecration made, all else will follow in the train; litanies of earnest supplication will rise from the full heart; the “prayer will be offered as incense; the lifting up of the hands as the evening sacrifice.”  Glad in its memory of the past, and hopeful in its trust for the future, the hosanna of gratitude will rise; “the sacrifice of praise continually; the fruit of our lips giving thanks to his name.”  The property received gratefully from heaven will be offered freely and bountifully for Christ; and some outcast housed in a safe and friendly shelter, some emancipated slave or converted Figian, some Indian breaking from his vassaldom of caste and Shaster, and longing to sit at Jesus’ feet and hear his word, will say rejoicingly of your liberality, “Having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent from you, an odour of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable, well-pleasing to God.”

CHRIST’S WORK OF DESTRUCTION AND DELIVERANCE.
REV. JOHN H. JAMES.

“That through death He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.”—Hebrews ii. 14, 15.

There is a special and ordained connection between the incarnation and the death of our blessed Lord.  Other men die in due course after they are born; he was born just that he might die.  He came “not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give” his “life a ransom for many.”  It is therefore evident that the theology which magnifies the incarnation at the expense of the atonement is fundamentally, fatally defective.  The brotherhood of Christ with every son of Adam is a blessed truth, but it is by no means the whole truth, nor can it be practically available and influential apart from the offering of his body upon the cross as a sacrifice for sin.  This is very clearly and strongly put in the text.  The incarnation of the Son of God is proved from the Old Testament, and shown to have had reference to his redeeming death.  Many purposes were answered by his becoming partaker of flesh and blood.  His influence as a teacher, the power of his spotless example, his identification with the needs and sorrows of humanity, and

the deep sympathy resulting therefrom,—these and similar ends were contemplated and fulfilled.  But the grand purpose was disclosed and accomplished on the cross, where God made his soul an offering for sin.  “Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.”

The death of Jesus, then, and the end to be accomplished by it, constitute the central, vital, culminating truth of Christianity.  The apostle puts the death of Christ in a striking point of view,—as a work done, rather than a calamity suffered.  And it was a double work,—a work of destruction on the one hand, and of deliverance on the other,—of destruction in order to deliverance.  That is the conception of his mission embodied in the first promise.  The bruising of the serpent’s head by the bruised heel of the Saviour, in order to repair the ruin wrought by the tempter, suggests very significantly the truth which is so explicitly announced here.  And a similar combination runs through the ancient providential history.  The destruction of the old world in order to the salvation of the righteous, and the fulfilment of the promise of redemption; and the destruction of the first-born of Egypt in order to the deliverance of Israel, are instances in point.  But the death of Christ upon the cross in order to the emancipation of the slaves of Satan is the most glorious and perfect illustration.  Let me ask your attention to the work of Christ’s death,

I.—As it is a Work of Destruction.

II.—As it is a Work of Deliverance.

I.  As it is a Work of Destruction.  “That He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil.”

1.  Satan, then, is a person, and the enemy of Jesus, who died to destroy him.

(i.)  The personality of the devil is necessarily implied in the words of the text.  The theory which seeks to divest all that is said about the devil in Scripture of everything like personality, and to refine it away into figurative representation of “the principle of evil,” is as unphilosophical as it is unscriptural.  How can we conceive of moral evil in the abstract?  How can we think of it apart from the depraved will of some intelligent being?  Whatever theories may be held respecting the difficult question of the origin of evil, it is surely inconceivable that it should exist independently of some living, conscious, intellectual author.  No truer or more philosophical solution can be found than that of the Bible, which attributes it to the devil,—a being originally good, who fell from his first estate, broke his allegiance to the Creator, and so became the leader of a vast and fearful rebellion against Almighty God.  The case of man shows us the possibility of a being existing in a holy but mutable state, and lapsing, under certain inducements, into sin.  What the inducements were in the instance of the prince of darkness we are not told; and thus the question of the origin of evil seems to be insoluble by us.  But the identification of it with the personal defection of Satan is far more intelligible and reasonable than the attempt to treat it as a metaphysical abstraction.  All the representations of the Bible on the subject are instinct with the awful personality of the devil.  He is our “adversary;” he is “the accuser;” he is “the God of this world;” he is “the prince of the power of the air, that wicked one that now worketh in the hearts of the children of disobedience;” he that hath “blinded the minds of them that believe not;” he “leadeth” sinners “captive at his will.”  Surely that is a bold and unscrupulous theology which resolves all these clear and strong expressions into the mere ideal impersonation of a principle.  O no!  Satan is a being of subtle intelligence, with a depraved, unconquerable, malignant will; a dread living power, with whom we have continually to do, who “desireth to have us, that he may sift us as wheat,” and with whom, if we wish to get to heaven, we must be prepared to fight at every step of our way.

(ii.)  And he is emphatically the enemy of Jesus, who came to “destroy” him.  “I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed.”  It was in pursuit of his designs against the living God that Satan persuaded our first parents to commit sin; it was by lying insinuations against God that he deceived her who was “first in the transgression.”  Of course, he is the enemy of man.  Of course, his design is to inflict ruin and misery on men, and to bring them to his own state and place of torment.  But he does this by seducing them into rebellion against the Most High.  Hatred of God is the spring of all his conduct, the motive of every enterprise which he undertakes.  And Jesus, the Son of God, the vindicator of the divine honour, is necessarily the sworn eternal foe of the devil; and He has come into our world as into the arena of a supreme conflict for the defeat and overthrow of Satan; has assumed the very nature which the foul fiend seduced and degraded, in order that, in that same nature, he might avenge the wrong done to the being and government of God, and put an eternal end to the usurpation and tyranny of his enemy.

2.  The devil “had the power of death.”

(i.)  We must not understand this as meaning that Satan has direct, independent, and absolute control over death, inflicting it how, and when, and where, and on whom, he will.  The later Jewish writers taught the horrible doctrine that the fallen angels have power or authority generally in reference to life and death.  But this never was the case.  Death was the sentence pronounced by God upon man, and it could only be inflicted by his appointment and concurrence.  The power of life and death is necessarily in God’s hands, and his only.

(ii.)  But Satan had the power of death, in this sense; namely, that he tempted man to commit the sin which “brought death into the world, and all our woe.”  He enticed Eve to sin, partly by denying that her offence would be visited with the punishment of death.  “Ye shall not surely die,” was the lie by which he contradicted and defied the God of truth, and induced the woman “to eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”  And so, he was “a murderer from the beginning.”  “God made man to be immortal, an image of his own eternity; nevertheless, through envy of the devil came death into the world.”  In this sense, then, as the author and introducer of that sin whose “wages” is death, Satan “had the power of death.”

(iii.)  Moreover, it is the work of Satan to invest death with its chief terrors.  We shrink indeed from the humiliating prospect of corruption and decay; we cling fondly to those companionships, associations, and pleasures, from which death for ever separates us; we deprecate and dread the blighting of our earthly hopes, and the ruthless frustration of our schemes.  These are very painful accessories of death; but they are not its sting; they do not make it a poison for the soul as well as for the body.  “The sting of death is sin.” 

That sting has been drawn for the Christian, and death hath no terrors for him.  But, had the power of the devil in death been unassailed and uncounteracted, the dissolution of the body and the eternal ruin of the soul would have been alike complete and irrecoverable.  By the consciousness of guilt, Satan has infused an element of insupportable terror into death.  For it is that consciousness which makes death dreadful.  It is quite probable that, if man had not sinned, his body would have undergone some great change, that it might be fitted for that “kingdom of God,” which “flesh and blood cannot inherit;” but such change would have inflicted no pain, and involved no humiliation; it would only have been a change “from glory to glory;” and would have been anticipated with no sentiments contrary to desire and hope.  But death, besides its own inherent ghastliness, is rendered dreadful through the malice of the devil, and the guilty fear of the penal hereafter which haunts all those who are in his power.

3.  Jesus died to destroy “him that had the power of death.”  He has indeed provisionally destroyed death itself for all “the sons of God.”  “Death, the last enemy, shall be destroyed.”  But it is not absolutely and immediately abolished.  The death of the body remains, even for God’s people, as a sad and humiliating monument of the evil of sin; but to them it is not now a punishment, but the mode of their birth into a new and more glorious life.

“Mortals cry, ‘A man is dead!’
Angels sing, ‘A child is born!’”

It may be truly said of the hour when a good man dies, that it is the hour when he enters into life.  And this is because Jesus destroyed “him that had the power of death.”  He did not annihilate him, the word does not mean that, but He neutralized, counteracted, stripped him of his power.  The whole design and effect of death, when in the power of the devil, has been defeated and reversed by the death of Christ.  Though the bodies of his people be consigned to the grave, it is in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to everlasting life.  That melancholy seed-time in which we cast the dust of our beloved into the earth, is the prelude to a glorious harvest; that when “He giveth his beloved sleep,” is preparatory to their awaking to glory and immortality.  “It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.”  This is what Christ’s death has done for the bodies of his people; and is it not an entire breaking of the power of the devil over death?  As to their souls, death delivers them from the burden of the flesh, that they may be in joy and felicity with God.  “Absent from the body,” they are for ever “present with the Lord.”  Death is no longer a dark and dreadful phantom, rising from the abyss, to drag down his victims and gorge himself upon them.  He is an angel, pure and bright, sent to summon God’s beloved to their Father’s house above.  That which men naturally dread as the crown and climax of all evils, becomes an object of wistful longing, for God’s servants have “a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better.”  This stripping away of Satan’s power, this destruction of “him that had the power of death,” is due to the death of Jesus.  He thus redeemed us from the debt of death, “acknowledging the debt in the manner in which he removed it.”  “Christ, by giving himself up to death, has acknowledged the guilt, and truly atoned for it; He has, in one act, atoned for the sinner and judged the sin.”  By dying for sins, He expiated that which gives to death its “sting,” its power to injure and to terrify.  He

“Entered the grave in mortal flesh,
And dwelt among the dead,”

that He might put an end to Satan’s power in and over death.  Some sound and excellent divines are of opinion that, in the interval between his death and resurrection He literally “descended into hell,” and there, in personal conflict, grappled with and overthrew the devil.  However this may be, it is certain that the bruising of his heel by Satan was the chosen means for his bruising of Satan’s head.  Our enemy, who brought death into the world, is entirely baffled and defeated, as to the purpose and effect of that calamity, in the case of all who believe in the death of Christ.  Their last act of faith gives them “the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  Then the God of peace “finally beats down Satan under their feet.”  Death is “swallowed up of life.”  What power over death has the devil in such a case?  Is it not wholly counteracted?  Is not death a wholly different, nay, opposite thing to what he intended, when by tempting and conquering our first parents he brought it into the world?  The body of the good man “is buried in peace, and his soul is blessed for evermore.”  He shall never more, through the long eternity of bliss, be assailed or injured by “him that had the power of death:” nor shall he see his enemy again, unless it be to triumph openly over him, in that day when “death, and hell shall be cast into the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.”  Many good people are unduly afraid of the devil, and especially they are in dread of his possible power in their last moments.  But we may dismiss this fear as altogether needless and unworthy.  Christ has not only rendered our great enemy utterly powerless for evil, but has, by his own most precious death, compelled even Satan into the service of the sons of God.  He has turned the supreme calamity brought into the world by the arch-fiend into the supreme glory and joy of all who believe in himself.  To all those who are by Jesus’ death “to life restored,” the day of death is infinitely preferable to the day of birth, for then beginneth that new life which shall never die.  “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him until that day.”

II.  Let us now contemplate the work of Jesus, in his death, as a work of deliverance.  “And deliver them who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage.”  If we ascertain the import of this description of those whom Christ died to deliver, we shall easily understand the nature and mode of the deliverance wrought out for them.

1.  They were in bondage.  They were in fact enslaved by “him who had the power of death.”  This is a very fearful view of our natural state, and one which contradicts all the conclusions of our own vanity and self-complacency.  Unconverted men believe that Christians are slaves, fettered by doubts, scruples, self-accusations; bound in the bands of moral routine, and able only to move in certain prescribed grooves; afraid to do as they list.  According to their notion, true liberty consists in throwing off religious restraints, and following as much as may be “the devices and desires of our own hearts.”  But this is a terrible delusion, which only serves to show the depth and subtlety of him who, besides having “the power of death,” is also “the father of lies,” the great deceiver and ensnarer of mankind.  History is full of analogous examples among men.  In how many instances have the most cruel and

remorseless tyrants made use of the passions and brute force of the multitude to secure their own elevation to absolute power, inducing their victims to forge and rivet their own chains.  And it is so in this case.  Sinners are the slaves of Satan; those evil desires and inclinations which they so recklessly obey are but the tools and bonds of the great oppressor.  The wicked man sells his soul to the devil for the price of indulgence in “the pleasures of sin, which are but for a season.”  There is a very easy way of testing this question of freedom or bondage in sin.  If you are really free, free to do as you like, you can do good as well as evil; you can give up your companionship with iniquity, and break your covenant with darkness, as readily, and with as little difficulty, as you made the compact.  Let the man who rejoices in his liberty to sin try to abandon iniquity; he will surely find it an impossible task.  However clearly he may discern the purity, justice, and goodness of God’s law, however passionately he may long, and however earnestly he may strive, to regulate his life by it, he will find himself “carnal, sold under sin;” he will “find another law in his members warring against the law of his mind, and bringing him into captivity to the law of sin and death.”  It is easy to float with the stream, and the stronger the current the more buoyantly and exultingly it bears you on.  But try to breast the current.  You will soon find that you have undertaken a task which is “impossible with men,” and will sink exhausted and undone with the vain endeavour.  Alas! Satan is in very truth the lord of every enslaved soul, not rightfully, only by virtue of the foulest usurpation; but he is so in fact, and he “binds our captive souls fast in his slavish chains.”  And by this bondage unto sin he holds us captive to death.  His law is “the law of sin and death;” and till Christ redeem and actually deliver us, we are bound over to endure “the bitter pains of eternal death.”  It is an awful thought, but it is as true as it is awful.  Our cruel and relentless jailer keeps us in the prison of sin, shut up under his power, with a view to our everlasting death.  May we be made conscious of our enslavement, for till we become so, we are not likely to seek for deliverance!

2.  The sure sign of bondage to Satan is continual subjection, or rather liability, to the fear of death.  It would scarcely be true to say of the great mass of the unconverted, that they are continually haunted and incommoded by the fear of death.  Their general condition is one of thoughtless and careless ease, but they are always, even through their whole life, liable to be thus haunted and incommoded.  Whenever the thought of death is brought home to them, as in the course of events it is ever and again sure to be, they are appalled and terrified.  They then feel that death has a sting, and they have some foretaste of its sharpness and venom.  They see nothing in death but the ruin of all their earthly hopes and schemes, and nothing after death but “a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation which shall devour the adversaries,” and when they seem to be themselves stricken by the hand of death, how do the terrors of hell make them afraid!

“O death, how shocking must thy summons be,
To him that is at ease in his possessions!”

There is a difference however, and a very great one, between the fear of death and the fear of dying.  Many good people are often tormented by the latter kind of fear.  It is frequently the result of a sensitive organization, or ill health, or a naturally gloomy temperament; and many who have been much troubled by it through life have found it to vanish completely when the supreme moment came.  But the fear of death is founded on the consciousness of unpreparedness for it, and on the anticipation of the punishments which it will bring.  Every unsaved sinner has abundant reason for the fear which, however he may laugh it off, will assuredly at times gain the mastery over him.  The brooding sense of insecurity; the secret sudden pang, stabbing him in the midst of his wildest joys; the desperate effort never to think, and the resolute refusal ever to speak of death; tell their tale, and show that the slaves of Satan are always liable to the fear of death.  O, if this be your case, it is high time to look to yourselves!  If you cannot bear the thought of death; if the great and solemn hereafter is haunted by images that scare and threaten you; if you “put far away the evil day;” be sure there is something radically wrong.  Be sure, by that token, that you are the slave of the devil.  Be sure that you “are in jeopardy every hour.”  Never rest, never for a moment be satisfied, till you can look death calmly in the face, and discern for yourself the life to come, and your inheritance in heaven.

3.  For we all may have deliverance from our bondage to Satan, and from this characteristic effect and sign of it.  The death of Jesus has provided this deliverance for us.  By depriving Satan of his power over death, by expiating that sin which is the sting of death, and so entirely reversing and counteracting its penal efficacy, Christ hath wrought out for us a great salvation.  And when we commit ourselves to Him, relying on the efficacy of his atonement, our chains are broken, and our craven fears are banished.  Among the “first words” of newly-converted souls none are more common or triumphant than these, “I am not afraid to die now!  I have a hope beyond the grave!”  It is indeed a mighty deliverance.  What calm, what security, what blessed hope does it inspire!  To lose all fear of the last and greatest of human calamities; to look into the face of that which was “once an uncouth hideous thing,” and to find that through our Saviour’s death it hath become “most fair and full of grace;” to see no longer a dark and shrouded fiend arrayed in mortal terrors, and poising an envenomed dart for the purpose of laying us low, and compassing our lasting ruin; but a shining and smiling messenger from the King of kings, bidding us to an everlasting banquet in his royal palace; is not this true, priceless, boundless liberty,—worth toiling, striving, suffering, dying for?  This flower of immortal hope blooms for each of us at the foot of the cross.  If by the death of Jesus we gain spiritual life, we shall rejoice in hope of the glory of God, and shall look forward to the day of our death as the day of our eternal marriage with the King of glory.  Let us not lose this unspeakable privilege!  Let us, by faith in the death of our Lord, secure our freedom and our birthright!  And, as we think of our smitten friends, let us thank God for their final deliverance from the power of death, and their admission into everlasting life.  Finally, let us more and more glory in that cross whereby our Saviour Christ “hath abolished death, and hath brought life and immortality to light.”