Rock of Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself in thee.
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself in thee.
A leading surgeon I heard of, when he has a bad wound to dress, or a broken limb to set, tells the patient:
"Now, look at the wound, see just how it looks, and then look at me!"
So when you have seen the state your heart is in, look up to Christ, and nowhere else.
There was an architect in Chicago who was converted. In giving his testimony, he said he had been in the habit of attending church for a great many years, but he could not say that he had really heard a sermon all the time. He said that when the minister gave out the text and began to preach, he used to settle himself in the corner of the pew and work out the plans of some building. He could not tell how many plans he had prepared while the minister was preaching. He was the architect for one or two companies; and he used to do all his planning in that way.
You see, Satan came in between him and the preacher, and caught away the good seed of the Word. I have often preached to people, and have been perfectly amazed to find they could hardly tell one solitary word of the sermon; even the text had completely gone from them.
"I hab hearn folks say, 'Hope I has 'ligion, but I doan know'; but I neber hearn a man say, 'I hope's I has money, but I doan know.' Dat sorter 'ligion dat yer hopes ye's got, but doan know, ain't gwine to do no mo' good dan der money what yer hopes ye's got but doan know."
An English army officer in India who had been living an impure life went round one evening to argue religion with the chaplain. During their talk the officer said:
"Religion is all very well, but you must admit that there are difficulties—about the miracles, for instance."
The chaplain knew the man and his besetting sin, and quietly looking him in the face, answered:
"Yes; there are some things in the Bible not very plain, I admit; but the seventh commandment is very plain."
The Bible is like an album. I go into a man's house, and while waiting for him, I take up an album and open it. I look at a picture. "Why, that looks like a man I know." I turn over and look at another. "Well, I know that man." I keep turning over the leaves. "Well, there is a man who lives in the same street as myself—he is my next-door neighbor." And then I come upon another, and see myself.
My friends, if you read your Bibles you will find your own pictures there. It just describes you. You may be a Pharisee; if so, turn to the third chapter of John, and see what Christ said to the Pharisee: "Except a man be born again he cannot enter the kingdom of God."But you may say: "I am not a Pharisee; I am a poor miserable sinner, too bad to come to Him." Well, turn to the woman of Samaria, and see what Christ said to her.
While we were in London, Mr. Spurgeon one day in his orphanage told about the boys—that some of them had aunts and some cousins, and that nearly every boy had some friend that took an interest in him, and came to see him and gave him a little pocket money. One day, he said, while he stood there, a little boy came up to him and said:
"Mr. Spurgeon, let me speak to you."
The boy sat down between Mr. Spurgeon and the elder who was with him, and said:
"Mr. Spurgeon, suppose your father and mother were dead, and you didn't have any cousins, or aunts, or uncles or friends to come and give you pocket money, and give you presents, don't you think you would feel bad? Because that's me!"
Said Mr. Spurgeon: "The minute he said that, I put my right hand down into my pocket and took out some money for him."
The unconverted have a false idea about repentance; they think God is going to make them repent. I was once talking with a man on this subject, and he summed up his whole argument by saying:
"Moody, it has never struck me yet."
I said: "What has never struck you."
"Well," he replied: "Some people it strikes, and some it doesn't. There was a good deal of interest inour town a few years ago, and some of my neighbors were converted, but it didn't strike me."
That man thought that repentance was coming down some day to strike him like lightning. Another man said he expected some sensation, like cold chills down his back.
Repentance isn't feeling. It is turning from sin to God. One of the best definitions was given by a soldier. Some one asked him how he was converted. He said:
"The Lord said to me,Halt! Attention! Right about face! March!and that was all there was in it."
A little child gives a good illustration of faith. Let the wind blow her hat into the river, and she does not worry; she knows her mother will get her another. She lives by faith.
A man in one of our meetings had been brought there against his will; he had come through some personal influence brought to bear upon him. When he got to the meeting, they were singing the chorus of a hymn:
Come! oh, come to Me!Come! oh, come to Me!Weary, heavy-laden,Come! oh, come to Me!
Come! oh, come to Me!Come! oh, come to Me!Weary, heavy-laden,Come! oh, come to Me!
He said afterward he thought he never saw so many fools together in his life before. The idea of a number of men standing there singing, "Come! come! come!"
When he started home he could not get this little word out of his head; it kept coming back all the time. He went into a saloon, and ordered some whisky, thinking to drown it. But he could not; it still kept coming back. He went into another saloon, and drank some more whisky; but the words kept ringing in his ears: "Come! come! come!" He said to himself, "What a fool I am for allowing myself to be troubled in this way!" He went to a third saloon, had another glass, and finally got home.
He went off to bed, but could not sleep; it seemed as if the very pillow kept whispering the word, "Come! Come!" He began to be angry with himself: "What a fool I was for ever going to that meeting at all!" When he got up he took the little hymn book, found the hymn, and read it over.
"What nonsense!" he said to himself; "the idea of a rational man being disturbed by that hymn."
He set fire to the hymn book, but he could not burn up the little word "Come!"
He declared he would never go to another of the meetings; but the next night he came again. When he got there, strange to say, they were singing the same hymn.
"There is that miserable old hymn again," he said; "what a fool I am for coming!" When the Spirit of God lays hold of a man, he does a good many things he did not intend to do.
To make a long story short, that man rose in a meeting of young converts, and told the story that I have now told you. Pulling out the little hymn-book—for he had bought another copy—and opening it at this hymn, he said:
"I think this hymn is the sweetest and the best in the English language. God blessed it to the saving of my soul. And yet this was the very hymn that I despised."
"He that winneth souls is wise." Do you want to win men? Do not drive or scold them. Do not try to tear down their prejudices before you begin to lead them to the truth. Some people think they have to tear down the scaffolding before they begin on the building. An old minister once invited a young brother to preach for him. The latter scolded the people, and when he got home, asked the old minister how he had done. He said he had an old cow, and when he wanted a good supply of milk, he fed the cow; he did not scold her.
A man died in the Columbus penitentiary some years ago who had spent over thirty years in his cell. He was one of the millionaires of Ohio. Fifty years ago when they were trying to get a trunk road from Chicago to New York, they wanted to lay the line through his farm near Cleveland. He did not want his farm divided by the railroad, so the case went into court, where commissioners were appointed to pay the damages and to allow the road to be built.
One dark night, a train was thrown off the track, and several were killed. This man was suspected, was tried and found guilty, and was sent to the penitentiary for life. The farm was soon cut up into city lots, and the man became a millionaire, but he got no benefit from it.
It may not have taken him more than an hour to lay the obstruction on the railroad, but he was over thirty years reaping the result of that one act!
A little child is the most dependent thing on earth. All its resources are in its parents' love; all it can do is to cry; and its necessities explain the meaning to the mother's heart. If we interpret its language, it means: "Mother, wash me; I cannot wash myself. Mother, clothe me; I am naked, and cannot clothe myself. Mother, feed me; I cannot feed myself. Mother, carry me; I cannot walk." It is written, "A mother may forget her sucking child; yet will not I forget thee."
This it is to receive the Kingdom of God as a little child—to come to Jesus in our helplessness, and say: "Lord Jesus, wash me!" "Clothe me!" "Feed me!" "Carry me!" "Save me, Lord, or I perish."—Rainsford.
A friend who lost all his children told me about being in an eastern country some time ago, and he saw a shepherd going down to a stream, and he wanted to get his flock across. He went into the water and called them by name, but they came to the bank and bleated, and were too afraid to follow. At last he went back, tightened his girdle about his loins, took up two little lambs, and put one inside his frock, and another inside his bosom. Then he started into the water, and the old sheep looked up to the shepherd instead of down into the water. They wanted to see their little ones. So he got them over the water, and led them into the green pastures on the other side.
How many times the Good Shepherd has come down here and taken a little lamb to the hill-tops of glory, and then the father and mother begin to look up and follow.
A friend told me of a poor man who had sent his son to school in the city. One day the father was hauling some wood into the city, perhaps to pay his boy's bills. The young man was walking down the street with two of his school friends, all dressed in the very height of fashion. His father saw him, and was so glad that he left his wood, and went to the sidewalk to speak to him. But the boy was ashamed of his father, who had on his old working clothes, and spurned him, and said:
"I don't know you."
Will such a young man ever amount to anything? Never!
There was a very promising young man in my Sunday-school in Chicago. His father was a confirmed drunkard, and his mother took in washing to educate her four children. This was her eldest son, and I thought that he was going to redeem the whole family. But one day a thing happened that made him go down in my estimation.
The boy was in the high school, and was a very bright scholar. One day he stood with his mother at the cottage door—it was a poor house, but she could not pay for their schooling and feed and clothe her children and hire a very good house too out of her earnings. When they were talking a young man from the high school came up the street, and this boy walked away from his mother. Next day the young man said:
"Who was that I saw you talking to yesterday?"
"Oh, that was my washerwoman."
I said: "Poor fellow! He will never amount to anything."
That was a good many years ago. I have kept my eye on him. He has gone down, down, down, and now he is just a miserable wreck. Of course, he would go down! Ashamed of his mother that loved him and toiled for him, and bore so much hardship for him! I cannot tell you the contempt I had for that one act.
Let us look at—
Some years ago I heard of a poor woman who sent her boy to school and college. When he was to graduate, he wrote his mother to come, but she sent back word that she could not because her best skirt had already been turned once. She was so shabby that she was afraid he would be ashamed of her. He wrote back that he didn't care how she was dressed, and urged so strongly that she went. He met her at the station, and took her to a nice place to stay. The day came for his graduation, and he walked down the broad aisle with that poor mother dressed very shabbily, and put her into one of the best seats in the house. To her great surprise he was the valedictorian of the class, and he carried everything before him. He won a prize, and when it was given to him, he stepped down before the whole audience and kissed his mother, and said:
"Here, mother, here is the prize! It's yours. I would not have won it if it had not been for you."
Thank God for such a man!
The folly of covetousness is well shown in the following extract:
"If you should see a man that had a large pond of water, yet living in continual thirst, nor suffering himselfto drink half a draught for fear of lessening his pond; if you should see him wasting his time and strength in fetching more water to his pond, always thirsty, yet always carrying a bucket of water in his hand, watching early and late to catch the drops of rain, gaping after every cloud, and running greedily into every mire and mud in hopes of water, and always studying how to make every ditch empty itself into the pond; if you should see him grow gray in these anxious labors, and at last end a thirsty life by falling into his own pond, would you not say that such a one was not only the author of his own disquiet, but was foolish enough to be reckoned among madmen? But foolish and absurd as this character is, it does not represent half the follies and absurd disquiets of the covetous man."
I have read of a millionaire in France, who was a miser. In order to make sure of his wealth, he dug a cave in his wine cellar so large and deep that he could go down into it with a ladder. The entrance had a door with a spring lock. After a time, he was missing. Search was made, but they could find no trace of him. At last his house was sold, and the purchaser discovered this door in the cellar. He opened it, went down, and found the miser lying dead on the ground, in the midst of his riches. The door must have shut accidentally after him, and he perished miserably.
Nine-tenths, at least, of our church members never think of speaking for Christ. If they see a man, perhaps a near relative, going right down to ruin, going rapidly, they never think of speaking to him about his sinful course and of seeking to win him to Christ. Nowcertainly there must be something wrong. And yet when you talk with them you find they have faith, and you cannot say they are not children of God; but they have not the power, the liberty, the love that real disciples of Christ should have.
A great many think that we need new measures, new churches, new organs, new choirs, and all these new things. That is not what the Church of God needs to-day. It is the old power that the apostles had. If we have that in our churches, there will be new life.
I remember when in Chicago many were toiling in the work, and it seemed as though the car of salvation didn't move on, when a minister began to cry out from the very depths of his heart:
"Oh, God, put new ministers in every pulpit."
Next Monday I heard two or three men stand up and say, "We had a new minister last Sunday—the same old minister, but he had got new power," and I firmly believe that is what we want to-day all over America—new ministers in the pulpit and new people in the pews. We want people quickened by the Spirit of God.
A minister rebuked a farmer for not attending church, and said:
"You know, John, you are never absent from market."
"Oh," was the reply, "wemustgo to market."
My friends, we have too many orators in the pulpit, I am tired and sick of your "silver-tongued orators." I used to mourn because I couldn't be an orator. I thought, Oh, if I could only have the gift of speech likesome men! I have heard men with a smooth flow of language take the audience captive; but they came and they went. Their voice was like the air—there wasn't anypowerback of it; they trusted in their eloquence and their fine speeches. That is what Paul was thinking of when he wrote to the Corinthians: "My speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power: that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God."
Take a witness in court and let him try his oratorical powers in the witness-box, and see how quickly the judge will rule him out. It is the man who tells the plain, simple truth that has the most influence with the jury.
Suppose that Moses had prepared a speech for Pharaoh, and had got his hair all smoothly brushed, and had stood before the looking-glass, or had gone to an elocutionist to be taught how to make an oratorical speech and how to make gestures. Suppose that he had buttoned his coat, put one hand in his chest, had struck an attitude, and begun:
"The God of our fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, has commanded me to come into the presence of the noble King of Egypt."
I think they would have taken his head right off! They had Egyptians who could be as eloquent as Moses. It was not eloquence they wanted.
Some one has said that there are three classes of people: the "wills," the "won'ts," and the "can'ts"; the first accomplish everything, the second oppose everything, and the third fail in everything.
A Christian man was once urged by his employer to work on Sunday.
"Does not your Bible say that if your ass falls into a pit on the Sabbath, you may pull him out?"
"Yes," replied the other; "but if the ass had the habit of falling into the same pit every Sabbath, I would either fill up the pit or sell the ass."
Suppose I hire two men to set out trees, and after a day or two I go out to see how they are getting along. I find that one man has set out a hundred trees, and the other only ten. I say:
"Look here; what does this mean? That man has set out a hundred trees, and you have set out only ten. What does it mean?"
"Yes, but he has cut off all the roots, and, just stuck the tops into the ground."
I go to the other man, and say: "What does this mean? Why have you planted all of these trees without roots?"
"I don't believe in roots; they are of no account. My trees look just as well as his."
But when the sun blazes upon the trees, they all wither and die.
There are a lot of people running around who haven't got any roots. A good many live on negations. They are always telling what theydon'tbelieve. I want a man to tell me what hedoesbelieve, not what he does not believe. And I like to meet a positive man. We just want to know what men do believe. We don't want trees that haven't any roots, for they will dry up whenthe sun blazes on them. There are a good many persons that are going on without any foundation; they have no faith.
Whatsoever He tells you to do, do. But be sure He says it. Don't take your ideas. Go and live right at home, go and treat your wife and children right, pay your debts, and do some things of that kind.
A colored man said he had seen a sign; he said it read, "G. P. C," and he understood it to mean, "Go preach Christ."
Another man got up, and said. "No, that ain't it; it is 'Go pick cotton.'"
If it is preach the gospel, go preach the gospel; and if it is pick cotton, then pick cotton.
You cannot offer a man a greater insult than to tell him he is a liar. Unbelief is telling God He is a liar.
Suppose a man said, "Mr. Moody, I have no faith in you whatever." Don't you think it would grieve me? There is not anything that would wound a man much more than to be told that you do not have any faith in him.
A great many men say, "Oh, I have profound reverence and respect for God."
Yes, profound respect, but not faith. Why, it is a downright insult!
Suppose a man says, "Mr. Moody, I have profound respect for you, profound admiration for you, but I do not believe a word you say."
I wouldn't give much for his respect or admiration; I wouldn't give much for his friendship. God wants usto put our faith in Him. How it would wound a mother's feelings to hear her children say, "I do love mamma so much, but I don't believe what she says." How it would grieve that mother. And that is about the way a great many of God's professed children talk. Some men seem to think it is a great misfortune that they do not have faith. Bear in mind it is not a misfortune, but it is the damning sin of the world.
A mother told me up in Minnesota that she had a little child who took a book and threw it out of the window. She told him to go and pick it up. The little boy said, "I won't."
She said, "What?"
He said again, "I won't."
She said: "You must. Go and pick up that book."
He said he couldn't do it. She took him out, and she held him right to it. Dinner-time came, and he hadn't picked up the book. She took him to dinner, and after it was over she took him out again. They sat there until tea-time. When tea-time came she took him in and gave him his supper, and then took him out and kept him there until bed-time. The next morning she went out again and kept him there until dinner-time. He found he was in for a life job, and he picked the book up.
She said she never had any trouble with the child afterward. Mothers, if you don't make your boy obey when he is young, he will break your heart.
When preaching in Chicago, Dr. Monro Gibson once asked in the inquiry meeting, "Now, how can we find out who is thirsty? I was just thinking how we couldfind out. If a boy should come down the aisle, bringing a good pail full of clear water and a dipper, we would soon find out who was thirsty. The thirsty men and women would reach out for water; but if he should walk down the aisle with an empty bucket, we wouldn't find out. People would look in and see that there was no water, and say nothing. So," said he, "I think that is the reason we are not more blessed in our ministry; we are carrying around empty buckets, and the people see that we have not anything in them, and they don't come forward."
Stewart Robertson met Marshall, the great politician, and Marshall said:
"Why don't you preach in parables like your Master?"
Robertson said: "I would if I knew enough. I wish you would make me a few."
He never could get to see him from that day until one day he met him on a corner, and he said:
"Marshall, where are those parables?"
"I knew you would be after me, but I give it up. I tried, but I couldn't make them. I didn't know it was so hard."
People say, "Oh, any one can make up a sermon." But if you think so, just try it!
The story is told that a man once said he would not talk to his son about religion; the boy should make his own choice when he grew up, unprejudiced by him.
The boy broke his arm, and when the doctor was setting it, he cursed and swore the whole time. The father was quite grieved and shocked.
"Ah," said the doctor, "you were afraid to prejudice the boy in the right way, but the devil had no such prejudice. He has led your son the other way."
The idea that a father is to let his children run wild! Nature alone never brings forth anything but weeds.
Look at that rum-seller. When we talk to him he laughs at us. He tells you there is no hell, no future—there is no retribution. I've got one man in my mind now who ruined nearly all the sons in his neighborhood. Mothers and fathers went to him and begged him not to sell their children liquor. He told them it was his business to sell liquor, and he was going to sell liquor to every one who came. The saloon was a blot upon the place as dark as hell.
But the man had a father's heart. He had a son. He didn't worship God, but he worshiped that boy. He didn't remember that whatsoever a man soweth so shall he reap. My friends, they generally reap what they sow. It may not come immediately, but the retribution will surely come. If you ruin other men's sons, some other man will ruin yours. Bear in mind God is a God of equity; God is a God of justice. He is not going to allow you to ruin others and escape yourself. If we go against His laws, we suffer.
Time rolled on, and that young man became a slave to drink, and his life became such a burden to him that he put a revolver to his head and blew his brains out. The father lived a few years, but his life was as bitter as gall, and then went down to his grave in sorrow. Ah, my friends, it is hard to kick against the pricks.
There was a time when our little boy did not like to go to church, and would get up in the morning and say to his mother:
"What day is to-morrow?"
"Tuesday."
"Next day?"
"Wednesday."
"Next day?"
"Thursday"; and so on, till he came to the answer, "Sunday."
"Dear me," he said.
I said to the mother, "We cannot have our boy grow up to hate Sunday in this way; that will never do. That is the way I used to feel when I was a boy. I used to look upon Sunday with a certain amount of dread. Very few kind words were associated with the day. I don't know that the minister even noticed me, unless it was when I was asleep in the gallery, and he had some one wake me up. This kind of thing won't do. We must make the Sunday the most attractive day of the week; not a day to be dreaded, but a day of pleasure."
Well, the mother took the work up with this boy. Bless those mothers in their work with the children! Sometimes I feel as if I would rather be the mother of John Wesley or Martin Luther or John Knox than have all the glories in the world. Those mothers who are faithful with the children God has given them will not go unrewarded.
My wife went to work, and took Bible stories and put those blessed truths in a light that the boy could comprehend, and soon his feeling for the Sabbath was the other way.
"What day's to-morrow?" he would ask.
"Sunday."
"I am glad."
If we make Bible truths interesting, and break them up in some shape so that these children can get at them, then they will begin to enjoy them.
In one of the tenement houses in New York City a doctor was sent for. He came, and found a young man very sick. When he got to the bedside the young man said:
"Doctor, I don't want you to deceive me; I want to know the worst. Is this illness to prove serious?"
After the doctor had made an examination, he said, "I am sorry to tell you you cannot live out the night."
The young man looked up and said, "Well, then, I have missed it at last!"
"Missed what?"
"I have missed eternal life. I always intended to become a Christian some day, but I thought I had plenty of time, and put it off."
The doctor, who was himself a Christian man, said: "It is not too late. Call on God for mercy."
"No; I have always had a great contempt for a man who repents when he is dying; he is a miserable coward. If I were not sick, I would not have a thought about my soul, and I am not going to insult God now."
The doctor spent the day with him, read to him out of the Bible, and tried to get him to lay hold of the promises. The young man said he would not call on God, and in that state of mind he passed away. Just ashe was dying the doctor saw his lips moving. He reached down, and all he could hear was the faint whisper:
"I have missed it at last!"
Dear friend, make sure that you do not miss eternal life at last.
A teacher had been relating to his class the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and he asked:
"Now, which would you rather be, boys, the rich man or Lazarus?"
One boy answered, "I would rather be the rich man while I live, and Lazarus when I die."
That cannot be.
Once when I was traveling to a city there was a lady in the car with me. After I had reached the hotel where I was to stay, and had got comfortable quarters, she came, and said:
"Oh, sir, I cannot get a room in this hotel; they are quite full! How ever did you manage to get a room?"
"Easily enough," I replied; "I just telegraphed on before that I was coming, to have a room ready for me."
And it is somewhat similar in regard to gaining admission to heaven. Your names must be sent on beforehand, and entered in its book, else you won't get in; but get your names inscribed on its pages, and then you won't be disappointed. God will have a mansion ready for you when you ascend to your heavenly home. When you come to its gates, the guardian angels will refer to the book of life to see if your name is there. If so, pass in; but if not, admittance will be inexorably refused.
Every one of God's proclamations is connected with that word "whosoever"—"whosoever believeth," "whosoever will." I think it was Richard Baxter said he thanked God for that "whosoever." He would a good deal rather have that word "whosoever" than Richard Baxter; for if it was Richard Baxter, he should have thought it was some other Richard Baxter who had lived and died before him; but "whosoever" he knew included him.
I heard of a woman once that thought there was no promise in the Bible for her; she thought the promises were for some one else, not for her. There are a good many of these people in the world. They think it is too good to be true that they can be saved for nothing. This woman one day got a letter, and when she opened it she found it was not for her at all; it was meant for another woman that had the same name; and she had her eyes opened to the fact that if she should find some promise in the Bible directed to her name, she would not know whether it meant her or some one else that bore her name. But you know the word "whosoever" includes every one in the wide world.
Although God forgave the sins of Jacob and David, and the other Old Testament saints, yet there were certain consequences of their sins which those saints had to suffer after they were forgiven.
If a man gets drunk and goes out and breaks his leg, so that it must be amputated, God will forgive him if he asks it, but he will have to hop around on one leg all his life. A man may sow thistle-seed with grain-seed in amoment of pique against his master, and the master may forgive him, but the man will have to reap the thistles with the grain.
An obscure man preached one Sunday to a few persons in a Methodist chapel in the South of England. A boy of fifteen years of age was in the audience, driven into the chapel by a snowstorm. The man took as his text the words, "Look unto me and be ye saved," and as he stumbled along as best he could, the light of heaven flashed into that boy's heart. He went out of the chapel saved, and soon became known as C. H. Spurgeon, the boy-preacher.
The parsonage at Epworth, England, caught fire one night, and all the inmates were rescued except one son. The boy came to a window, and was brought safely to the ground by two farm-hands, one standing on the shoulder of the other. The boy was John Wesley. If you would realize the responsibility of that incident, if you would measure the consequences of that rescue, ask the millions of Methodists who look back to John Wesley as the founder of their denomination.
A man was once conversing with a Brahmin priest, and he asked:
"Couldyousay, 'I am the Resurrection and the Life?'"
"Yes," replied the priest, "I could say that."
"But could you make any one believe it?"
Christ proved His superiority right there. His character and His actions were back of His words. He exhibited His divine power to silence His enemies.
I remember being in a meeting after the Civil War had been going on for about six months. The army of the North had been defeated at Bull Run; in fact, we had nothing but defeat, and it looked as though the Republic was going to pieces; so we were much cast down and discouraged. At this meeting every speaker for a while seemed as if he had hung his harp upon the willow; it was one of the gloomiest meetings I ever attended. Finally an old man with beautiful white hair got up to speak, and his face literally shone.
"Young men," he said, "you do not talk like sons of the King. Though it is dark just here, remember it is light somewhere else." Then he went on to say that if it were dark all over the world, it was light up around the Throne.
He told us he had come from the East, where a friend had described to him how he had been up a mountain to spend the night and see the sun rise. As the party were climbing up the mountain, and before they had reached the summit, a storm came on. This friend said to the guide:
"I will give this up; take me back."
The guide smiled, and replied: "I think we shall get above the storm soon."
On they went; and it was not long before they got up to where it was as calm as any summer evening. Down in the valley a terrible storm raged; they could hear the thunder rolling, and see the lightning's flash; but all was serene on the mountain top.
"And so, my young friends," continued the old man,"though all is dark around you, come a little higher, and the darkness will flee away."
Often when I have been inclined to get discouraged, I have thought of what he said. If you are down in the valley amidst the thick fog and the darkness, get a little higher; get nearer to Christ, and know more of Him.
Jesus said, "The works that I do shall ye do also, and greater works than these shall ye do because I go to the Father."
I used to stumble over that. I didn't understand it. I thought what greater work could any man do than Christ had done? How could any one raise a dead man who had been laid away in the sepulchre for days, and who had already begun to turn back to dust; how with a word could he call him forth?
But the longer I live the more I am convinced it is a greater thing to influence a man's will; a man whose will is set against God; to have that will broken and brought into subjection to God's will—or, in other words, it is a greater thing to have power over a living, sinning, God-hating man, than to quicken the dead. He who could create a world could speak a dead soul into life; but I think the greatest miracle this world has ever seen was the miracle at Pentecost. Here were men who surrounded the apostles, full of prejudice, full of malice, full of bitterness, their hands, as it were, dripping with the blood of the Son of God, and yet an unlettered man, a man whom they detested, a man whom they hated, stands up and preaches the Gospel, and three thousand of them are immediately convicted and converted, and become disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ.
One young man at college, an only son, whose mother wrote to him remonstrating against his gambling and drinking habits, took the letters out of the post-office, and when he found that they were from her, he tore them up without reading them. She said:
"I thought I would die when I found I had lost my hold on that son."
If a boy kills his mother by his conduct, you can't call it anything else thanmurder, and he is as truly guilty of breaking the sixth commandment as if he drove a dagger to her heart.
Commenting on the text: "It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in His own power," Spurgeon said:
"If I were introduced into a room where a large number of parcels were stored up, and I was told that there was something good for me, I should begin to look for that which had my name upon it, and when I came upon a parcel and I saw in pretty big letters, 'It is not for you,' I should leave it alone. Here, then, is a casket of knowledge marked, 'It is not for youto know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in His own power.' Cease to meddle with matters which are concealed, and be satisfied to know the things which are clearly revealed."
I heard of a boy who stole a cannon-ball from a navy-yard. He watched his opportunity, sneaked into the yard, and secured it. But when he had it, he hardly knew what to do with it. It was heavy, and too largeto conceal in his pocket, so he had to put it under his hat. When he got home with it, he dared not show it to his parents, because it would have led at once to his detection.
He said in after years it was the last thing he ever stole.
The story is told that a royal diamond valued at $600,000 was stolen from a window of a jeweler, to whom it had been given to set. A few months afterward a miserable man died a miserable death in a poor lodging-house. In his pocket was found the diamond, and a letter telling how he had not dared to sell it, lest it should lead to his discovery and imprisonment. It never brought him anything but anxiety and pain.
God's best gifts, like valuable jewels, are kept under lock and key, and those who want them must, with fervent faith, importunately ask for them; for God is the rewarder of them thatdiligentlyseek Him.
God is always true to what He promises to do. He made promises to Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Joshua, and the others, and did He not fulfill them? He will fulfill every word of what He has promised; yet how few take Him at His word!
When I was a young man I was clerk in the establishment of a man in Chicago, whom I observed frequently occupied sorting and marking bills. He explained to me what he had been doing; on some notes he had marked B, on some D, and on others G; those marked B, he told me, were bad, those marked D meant they weredoubtful, and those with G on them mean they weregood; and, said he, you must treat all of them accordingly. And thus people indorse God's promises, by marking some as bad and others as doubtful; whereas we ought to take all of them asgood, for He has never once broken His word, and all that He says He will do, will be done in the fullness of time.
When men go up in a balloon, they carry with them what they call ballast—that is, small bags of sand, and when they want to rise higher they just throw out some of the sand. So we, if we want to rise nearer heaven, must just throw out some of the sand, and cast aside every weight. We won't rise higher till we do so.
The closest tie on earth is a mother's love for her child. There are a good many things that will separate a man from his wife, but there isn't a thing in the wide, wide world that will separate a true mother from her own child. I will admit that there are unnatural mothers, that there are mothers that have gone out of their heads, mothers that are so steeped in sin and iniquity that they will turn against their own children, but a true mother will never, never turn against her own child. I have talked with mothers when my blood boiled with indignation against the sons for their treatment of their mothers, and I have said:
"Why don't you cast him off?"
They have said: "Why, Mr. Moody, I love him still. He is my son."
I was once preaching for Dr. G. in St. Louis, andwhen I got through he said that he wanted to tell me a story. There was a boy who was very bad. He had a very bad father, who seemed to take delight in teaching his son everything that was bad. The father died, and the boy went on from bad to worse until he was arrested for murder.
When he was on trial, it came out that he had murdered five other people, and from one end of the city to the other there was a universal cry going up against him. During his trial they had to guard the court-house, the indignation was so intense.
The white-haired mother got just as near her son as she could, and every witness that went into the court and said anything against him seemed to hurt her more than her son. When the jury brought in a verdict of guilty a great shout went up, but the old mother nearly fainted away; and when the judge pronounced the sentence of death they thought she would faint away.
After it was over she threw her arms around him and kissed him, and there in the court they had to tear him from her embrace. She then went the length and breadth of the city trying to get men to sign a petition for his pardon. And when he was hanged, she begged the governor to let her have the body of her son, that she might bury it. They say that death has torn down everything in this world, everything but a mother's love. That is stronger than death itself. The governor refused to let her have the body, but she cherished the memory of that boy as long as she lived.
A few months later she followed her boy, and when she was dying she sent word to the governor, and begged that her body might be laid close to her son. That is a mother's love! She wasn't ashamed to have her gravepointed out for all time as the grave of the mother of the most noted criminal the State of Vermont ever had.
The prophet takes hold of that very idea. He says: "Can a mother forget her child?" But a mother's love is not to be compared to the love of God.
I was preaching in British Columbia some years ago and a young man came to me, and wanted to become a Christian. He had been smuggling opium into the States.
"Well, my friend," I said, "I don't think there is any chance for you to become a Christian until you make restitution." He said, "If I attempt to do that, I will fall into the clutches of the law, and I will go to the penitentiary." "Well," I replied, "you had better do that than go to the judgment-seat of God with that sin upon your soul, and have eternal punishment. The Lord will be very merciful if you set your face to do right."
He went away sorrowful, but came back the next day, and said: "I have a young wife and child, and all the furniture in my house I have bought with money I have got in this dishonest way. If I become a Christian, that furniture will have to go, and my wife will know it."
"Better let your wife know it, and better let your home and furniture go."
"Would you come up and see my wife?" he asked; "I don't know what she will say."
I went up to see her, and when I told her, the tears trickled down her cheeks, and she said: "Mr. Moody, I will gladly give everything if my husband can become a true Christian."
She took out her pocketbook, and handed over her last penny. He had a piece of land in the United States, which he deeded over to the government. I do not know, in all my backward track, of any living man who has had a better testimony for Jesus Christ than that man. He had been dishonest, but when the truth came to him that he must make it right before God would help him, he made it right.
No amount of weeping over sin, and saying that you feel sorry, is going to help it unless you are willing to confess and make restitution.
I said to my little family, one morning, a few weeks before the Chicago fire, "I am coming home this afternoon to give you a ride."
My little boy clapped his hands. "Oh, papa, will you take me to see the bears in Lincoln Park?"
"Yes."
I had not been gone long when my little boy said, "Mamma, I wish you would get me ready."
"Oh," she said, "it will be a long time before papa comes."
"But I want to get ready, mamma."
At last he was ready to have the ride, face washed, and clothes all nice and clean.
"Now, you must take good care, and not get yourself dirty again," said mamma.
Of course, he was going to take care; he wasn't going to get dirty! So off he ran to watch for me. However, it was a long time yet until the afternoon, and after a little he began to play. When I got home, I found him outside, with his face all covered with dirt.
"I can't take you to the park that way, Willie."
"Why papa? you said you would take me."
"Ah, but I can't; you're all over mud. I couldn't be seen with such a dirty little boy."
"Why, I'se clean, papa; mamma washed me."
"Well, you've got dirty again."
But he began to cry, and I could not convince him that he was dirty.
"I'se clean; mamma washed me!" he cried.
Do you think I argued with him? No. I just took him up in my arms, and carried him into the house, and showed him his face in the looking-glass. He had not a word to say. He would not take my word for it; but one look at the glass was enough; he saw it for himself. He didn't say he wasn't dirty after that!
Now, the looking-glass showed him that his face was dirty—but I did not take the looking-glass to wash it; of course not. Yet that is just what thousands of people do. The Law is the looking-glass to see ourselves in, to show us how vile and worthless we are in the sight of God; but they take the Law and try towashthemselves with it, instead of being washed in the blood of the Lamb.
An old Welshwoman said Christ was Welsh, and an Englishman said:
"No, He was a Jew."
She declared that she knew He was Welsh, because He spoke so that she could understand Him.
Many a man is lost because he does not start right. He makes a bad start. A young man comes from hiscountry home, and enters upon city life. Temptation arises, and he becomes false to his principles. He meets with some scoffing, sneering man, who jeers at him because he goes to a church service; or because he is seen reading his Bible; or because he is known to pray to God. And the young man proves to be weak-kneed; he cannot stand the scoffs and the sneers and the jeers of his companions; and so he becomes untrue to his principles, and gives them up.
I want to say here to young men, that when a young man makes a wrong start, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it is ruin to him. The first game of chance; the first betting transaction; the first false entry in the books; the first quarter-dollar taken from the cash-box or the till; the first night spent in evil company—either of these may prove the turning-point; either of these may represent a wrong start.
There is a well-known story told of Napoleon the First's time. In one of the conscriptions, during one of his many wars, a man was balloted as a conscript who did not want to go, but he had a friend who offered to go in his place. His friend joined the regiment in his name, and was sent off to the war. By and by a battle came on, in which he was killed, and they buried him on the battle-field. Some time after, the Emperor wanted more men, and by some mistake the first man was balloted a second time. They went to take him, but he remonstrated.
"You cannot take me."
"Why not?"
"I am dead," was the reply.
"You are not dead; you are alive and well."
"But Iamdead," he said.
"Why, man, you must be mad. Where did you die?"
"At such a battle, and you left me buried on such a battle-field."
"You talk like a madman," they cried; but the man stuck to his point that he had been dead and buried some months.
"Look up your books," he said, "and see if it is not so."
They looked, and found that he was right. They found the man's name entered as drafted, sent to the war, and marked off as killed.
"Look here," they said, "you didn't die; you must have got some one to go for you; it must have been yoursubstitute."
"I know that," he said; "he died in my stead. You cannot touch me; I died in that man, and I go free. The law has no claim against me."
They would not recognize the doctrine of substitution, and the case was carried to the Emperor. He said that the man was right, that he was dead and buried in the eyes of the law, and that France had no claim against him.
This story may or may not be true, but one thing I know is true: Jesus Christ suffered death for the sinner, and those who accept Him are free from the Law.
When I was out in California, the first time I went down from the Sierra Nevada Mountains and dropped into the Valley of the Sacramento, I was surprised to find on one farm that everything about it was green—allthe trees and flowers, everything was blooming, and everything was green and beautiful, and just across the hedge everything was dried up, and there was not a green thing there. I could not understand it. I made inquiries, and I found that the man that had everything green, irrigated; he just poured the water right on, and kept everything green, while the fields that were next to his were as dry as Gideon's fleece without a drop of dew.
So it is with a great many in the church to-day. They are like these farms in California—a dreary desert, everything parched and desolate, and apparently no life in them. They can sit next to a man who is full of the Spirit of God, who is like a green bay tree, and who is bringing forth fruit, and yet they will not seek a similar blessing.
Well, why this difference? Because God has poured water on him that was thirsty; that is the difference. One has been seeking this anointing, and he has received it; and when we want this above everything else God will surely give it to us.
What we want is family piety, righteousness in our homes. A young minister came to me, and said he couldn't get along with his wife, and what should he do? I told him to get out of the ministry. A man has no right to be in the pulpit unless he can get along with his family.
It is a false idea that all pride is confined to the upper classes. You will find it in the lanes and alleys. You will find little dirty, barefooted children who will get a string of shavings, put it round their necks, and strutdown the street as if they were wearing golden beads. Pride is born and grows in the human heart. You do not plant it there; it grows there of itself. There is as much pride among the poor as among the rich; and that is one reason why more of them do not come to the Lord Jesus Christ: they do not like to be laughed at, scoffed at, sneered at, and ridiculed. It costs them too much.
A man may preach with the eloquence of an angel, but if he doesn't live what he preaches, and act out in his home and his business what he professes, his testimony goes for naught, and the people say it is all hypocrisy after all; it is all a sham. Words are very empty, if there is nothing back of them. Your testimony is poor and worthless, if there is not a record back of that testimony consistent with what you profess. What we need is to pray to God to lift us up out of this low, cold, formal state that we live in, that we may dwell in the atmosphere of God continually, and that the Lord may lift upon us the light of His countenance, and that we may shine in this world, reflecting His grace and glory.
There is an old fable that a doe that had but one eye used to graze near the sea; and in order to be safe, she kept her blind eye toward the water, from which side she expected no danger, while with the good eye she watched the country. Some men, noticing this, took a boat and came upon her from the sea and shot her. With her dying breath, she said:
"Oh! hard fate! that I should receive my death wound from that side whence I expected no harm, and be safe in the part where I looked for most danger."
If a farmer neglects to plant in the springtime, he can never recover the lost opportunity; no more can you, if you neglect yours. Youth is a seed-time, and if it is allowed to pass without good seed being sown, weeds will spring up and choke the soil. It will take bitter toil to uproot them.
An old divine said that when a good farmer sees a weed in his field he has it pulled up. If it is taken early enough, the blank is soon filled in, and the crop waves over the whole field. But if allowed to run too late, the bald patch remains. It would have been better if the weed had never been allowed to get root.
A steamboat was stranded in the Mississippi River, and the captain could not get her off. Eventually a hard-looking fellow came on board, and said:
"Captain, I understand you want a pilot to take you out of this difficulty?"
The captain said, "Are you a pilot?"
"Well, they call me one."
"Do you know where the snags and sand-bars are?"
"No, sir."
"Well, how do you expect to take me out of here if you don't know where the snags and sand-bars are?"
"I know where they ain't!" was the reply.
Beware of temptations. "Lead us not into temptation," our Lord taught us to pray; and again He said, "Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation." We are weak and sinful by nature, and it is a good deal better for us to pray for deliverance rather than to run into temptation and then pray for strength to resist.
Men are anxious for a revival in business. There is a great revival in politics just now. In all departments of life you find that men are very anxious for a revival in the things that concern them most.
If this is legitimate—and it is perfectly right in its place—should not every child of God be praying for and desiring a revival of godliness in the world at the present time? Do we not need a revival of downright honesty, of truthfulness, of uprightness, and of temperance? Are there not many who have become alienated from the Church of God and from the house of the Lord, who are forming an attachment to the saloon? Are not our sons being drawn away by hundreds and thousands, so that while you often find the churches empty, the liquor shops are crowded every Sabbath afternoon and evening? I am sure the saloon-keepers are glad if they can have a revival in their business; they do not object to sell more whisky and beer. Then surely every true Christian ought to desire that men who are in danger of perishing eternally should be saved and rescued.
A sculptor once showed a visitor his studio. It was full of statues of gods. One was very curious. The face was concealed by being covered with hair, and there were wings on each foot.
"What is his name?" said the visitor.
"Opportunity," was the reply.
"Why is his face hidden?"
"Because men seldom know him when he comes to them."
"Why has he wings on his feet?"
"Because he is soon gone, and once gone can never be overtaken."
It becomes us, then, to make the most of the opportunities God has given us.
I used at one time to read so many chapters of the Bible a day, and if I did not get through my usual quantity, I thought I was getting cold and backsliding. But, mind you, if a man had asked me two hours afterward what I had read, I could not tell him; I had forgotten it nearly all.
When I was a boy I used, among other things, to hoe corn on a farm; and I used to hoe it so badly, in order to get over so much ground, that at night I had to put down a stick in the ground, so as to know next morning where I had left off.
That was somewhat in the same fashion as running through so many chapters every day. A man will say, "Wife, did I read that chapter?"
"Well," says she, "I don't remember."
And neither of them can recollect. And perhaps he reads the same chapter over and over again; and they call that "studying the Bible." I do not think there is a book in the world we neglect so much as the Bible.
One man said to another, some time ago: "How are you getting on at your church?"
"Oh, splendid."
"Many conversions?"
"Well—well, on that side we are not getting on so well. But," he said, "we have rented all our pews andare able to pay all our running expenses. We are getting on splendidly."
That is what the godless call "getting on splendidly." They rent the pews, pay the minister, and meet all the running expenses.
A man was being shown through one of the cathedrals of Europe; he had come in from the country. One of the men belonging to the cathedral was showing him around, when he inquired:
"Do you have may conversions here?"
"Many what?"
"Many conversions here?"
"Ah, man, this is not a Wesleyan chapel."
The idea of there being conversions there! And you can go into a good many churches in this country and ask if they have many conversions there, and they would not know what it meant, they are so far away from the Lord; they are not looking for conversions, and don't expect them.
Once, as I was walking down the street, I heard some people laughing and talking aloud. One of them said:
"Well, there will be no difference; it will be all the same a hundred years hence."
The thought flashed across my mind, "Will there be no difference? Where will you be a hundred years hence?"
Young man, just ask yourself the question, "Where shall I be?" Some of you who are getting on in years may be in eternity ten years hence. Where will you be, on the left or the right hand of God? I cannot tell yourfeelings, but I can my own. I ask you, "Where will you spend eternity? Where will you be a hundred years hence?"
Remember, salvation is a free gift, and it is a free giftfor us. Can you buy it? It is a free gift, presented to "whosoever" will accept it.
Suppose I were to say, I will give this Bible to "whosoever" will take it; what have you got to do? Why, nothing but take it. But a man comes forward, and says:
"I'd like that Bible very much."
"Well, didn't I say 'whosoever' will can have it?"
"Yes; but I'd like to have you mention my name."
"Well, here it is."
Still he keeps eyeing the Bible, and saying, "I'd like to have that Bible; but I'd like to give you something for it. I don't like to take it for nothing."
"But I am not here to sell Bibles; take it, if you want it."
"Well, I want it; but I'd like to give you something for it. Let me give you a cent for it; though, to be sure, it's worth about five dollars."
Suppose I accept the cent; the man takes up the Bible and marches away home with it.
His wife asks, "Where did you get that Bible?"
"Oh, I bought it."
Mark the point; when he gave the penny, it ceased to be a gift. So with salvation. If you were to pay ever so little, it would not be a gift.
Suppose I meet a man who is sowing seed, and say, "Hello, stranger, what are you sowing?"
"Seed."
"What kind of seed?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you know whether it is good or bad?"
"No; I can't tell. But it is seed—that is all I want to know, and I am sowing it."
You would say that he was a first-class lunatic, wouldn't you? But he wouldn't be half so mad as the man who goes on sowing for time and eternity, and never asks himself what he is sowing or what the harvest will be.
Father, what seed are you sowing in your family? Are you setting your children a good or a bad example? Do you spend your time at the saloon or the club, until you have become almost a stranger to them? or are you training them for God and righteousness?