the place where ye may lighten your burden, and lose your cares. Oh, son

of affliction and misery, wouldst thou forget for a time thy pains and

griefs? This is the Bethesda, the house of mercy; this is the place where

God designs to cheer thee, and to make thy distresses stay their never

ceasing course; this is the spot where his children love to be found, because

here they find consolation in the midst of tribulation, joy in their sorrows,

and comfort in their afflictions. Even worldly men admit that there is

something extremely comforting in the sacred Scriptures, and in our holy

religion. I have even heard it said of some, that after they had, by their

logic, as they thought, annihilated Christianity, and proved it to be untrue,

they acknowledged that they had spoilt an excellently comforting delusion,

and that they could almost sit down and weep to think it was not a reality.

Ay, my friends, if it were not true, ye might weep. If the Bible were not the

truth of God — if we could not meet together around his mercy seat, then

ye might put your hands upon your loins and walk about as if ye were in

travail. If ye had not something in the world beside your reason, beside the

fleeting joys of earth — if ye had not something which God had given to

you, some hope beyond the sky, some refuge that should be more than

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terrestrial, some deliverance which should be more than earthly, then ye

might weep, — ah! weep your heart out at your eyes, and let your whole

bodies waste away in one perpetual tear. Ye might ask the clouds to rest

on your head, the rivers to roll down in streams from both your eyes, for

your grief would “have need of all the watery things that nature could

produce.” But, blessed be God, we have consolation, we have joy in the

Holy Ghost. We find it nowhere else. We have raked the earth through, but

we have discovered ne’er a jewel; we have turned this dunghill-world o’er

and o’er a thousand times, and we have found nought that is precious, but

here, in this Bible, here in the religion of the blessed Jesus, we, the sons of

God, have found comfort and joy, while we can truly say, “As our

afflictions abound, so our consolations also abound by Christ.”

There are four things in my text to which I invite your attention the first is

the sufferings to be expected — “The sufferings of Christ abound in us;”

secondly, the distinction to be noticed — they are the sufferings of Christ;

thirdly, a proportion to be experienced — as the sufferings of Christ

abound, so our consolations abound; and fourthly, the person to be

Apostle says “The sufferings of Christ abound in us.” Before we buckle on

the Christian armor we ought to know what that service is which is

expected of us. A recruiting sergeant often slips a shilling into the hand of

some ignorant youth, and tells him that Her Majesty’s Service is a fine

thing, that he has nothing to do but walk about in his flaming colors, that

he will have no hard service — in fact, that he has nothing to do but to be a

soldier, and go straight on to glory. But the Christian servant, when he

enlists a soldier of the cross, never deceives him like that. Jesus Christ

himself said, “Count the cost.” He wished to have no disciple who was not

prepared to go all the way — “to bear hardness as a good soldier.” I have

sometimes heard religion described in such a way that its high coloring has

displeased me. It is true “her ways are ways of pleasantness,” but it is not

true that a Christian never has sorrow or trouble. It is true that light-eyed

cheerfulness, and airy-footed love, can go through the world without much

depression and tribulation: but it is not true that Christianity will shield a

man from trouble; nor ought it to be so represented. In fact, we ought to

speak of it in the other way, Soldier of Christ, if thou enlisteth, thou wilt

have to do hard battle. There is no bed of down for thee, there is no riding

to heaven in a chariot; the rough way must be trodden, mountains must be

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climbed, rivers must be forded, dragons must be fought, giants must be

slain, difficulties must be overcome, and great trials must be borne. It is not

a smooth road to heaven, believe me; for those who have gone but a very

few steps therein, have found it to be a rough one. It is a pleasant one, it is

the most delightful in all the world, but it is not easy in itself; it is only

pleasant because of the company, because of the sweet promises on which

we lean, because of our Beloved who walks with us through all the rough

and thorny brakes of this vast wilderness. Christian expect trouble: “Count

it not strange concerning the fiery trial, and as though some strange thing

had happened unto thee;” for as truly as thou art a child of God, thy Savior

hath left thee for his legacy, — “In the world, ye shall have tribulation, in

me ye shall have peace.” If I had no trouble I would not believe myself one

of the family. If I never had a trial, I would not think myself a heir of

heaven. Children of God must not, shall not, escape the rod. Earthly

parents may spoil their children, but the heavenly Father ne’er shall his.

“Whom he loveth he chasteneth,” and scourgeth every son whom he hath

chosen. His people must suffer; therefore, expect it Christian; if thou art a

child of God, believe it, look for it, and when it comes say, “Well suffering,

I foresaw thee; thou art no stranger, I have looked for thee continually.”

You cannot tell how much it will lighten your trials, if you await them with

resignation, In fact, make it a wonder if you get through a day easily. If

you remain a week without persecution, think it a remarkable thing; and if

you should, perchance, live a month without heaving a sigh from your

inmost heart think it a miracle of miracles. But when the trouble comes say,

“Ah! this is what I looked for; it is marked in the chart to heaven, the rock

is put down; I will sail confidently by it; my Master has not deceived me.”

But why must the Christian expect trouble? Why must he expect the

sufferings of Christ to abound in him? Stand here a moment, my brother,

and I will show thee four reasons wherefore thou must endure trial. First

look upward, then look downward, then look around thee, and then look

within thee, and thou wilt see four reasons why the sufferings of Christ

should abound in thee.

Look upward. Dost thou see thy heavenly Father, a pure and holy being,

spotless just, perfect? Dost thou know that thou art one day to be like him?

Thinkest thou that thou wilt easily come to be conformed to his image?

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Wilt thou not require much furnace work, much grinding in the mill of

trouble, much breaking with the pestle in the mortar of affliction, much

being broken under the wheels of agony? Thinkest thou it will be an easy

thing for thy heart to become as pure as God is? Dost thou think thou canst

so soon get rid of thy corruptions, and become perfect, even as thy Father

which is in heaven is perfect?

Lift up thine eye again; dost thou discern those bright spirits clad in white,

purer than alabaster, more chaste, more fair than Parian marble? Behold

them as they stand in glory. Ask them whence their victory came. Some of

them will tell you — they swam through seas of blood. Behold the sears of

honor on their brows; see, some of them lift up their hands and tell you

they were once consumed in fire; while others were slain by the sword, rent

in pieces by wild beasts, were destitute, afflicted, tormented. O ye noble

army of martyrs, ye glorious hosts of the living God. Must ye swim

through seas of blood, and shall I hope to ride to heaven wrapped in furs

and ermine? Did ye endure suffering, and shall I be hampered with the

luxuries of this world? Did ye fight and then reign, and must I reign

without a battle. Oh, no. By God’s help I will expect that as ye suffered so

must I, and as through much tribulation ye entered the kingdom of heaven,

so shall I.

Next, Christian, turn thine eyes downward. Dost thou know what foes

thou hast beneath thy feet? There are hell and its lions against thee. Thou

wast once a servant of Satan, and no king will willingly lose his subjects.

Dost thou think that Satan is pleased with thee? Why, thou hast changed

thy country. Thou wast once a liege servant of Apollyon, but now thou art

become a good soldier of Jesus Christ; and dost thou think the devil is

pleased with thee? I tell thee nay. If thou hadst seen Satan the moment

thou wast converted, thou wouldst have beheld a wondrous scene. As soon

as thou gavest thy heart to Christ, Satan spread his bat-like-wings: down

he flew into hell, and summoning all his counselors he said “Sons of the pit,

true heirs of darkness, ye who erst were clad in light, but who fell with me

from high dignities, another of my servants has forsaken me; I have lost

another of my family; he is gone over to the side of the Lord of Hosts. Oh

ye, my compeers, ye fellowhelpers of the powers of darkness, leave no

stone unturned to destroy him. I bid you all hurl all your fiercest darts at

him; plague him; let hell-dogs bark at him; let fiends besiege him; give him

no rest, harrass him to the death; let the fumes of our corrupt and burning

lake ever rise in his nostrils, persecute him, the man is a traitor, give him no

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peace; since I cannot have him here to bind him in chains of adamant, since

I ne’er can have him here to torment and afflict him, as long as ye can, till

his dying day, I bid you howl at him; until he crosses the river, afflict him,

grieve him, torment him; for the wretch has turned against me, and become

a servant of the Lord.” Such may have been the scene in hell, that very day

when thou didst love the Lord. And dost thou think Satan loves thee better

now? Ah! no. He will always be at thee, for thine enemy, “like a roaring

lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour.” Expect trouble therefore,

Christian, when thou lookest beneath thee.

Then, man of God, look around thee. Do not be asleep. Open thine eyes,

and look around thee. Where art thou? Is that man a friend next to thee?

No; thou art in an enemy’s country. This is a wicked world. Half the

people, I suppose, profess to be irreligious and those who profess to be

pious, often are not. “Cursed is he that trusteth in man and maketh flesh his

arm.” — “Blessed is he that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord

is.” — “As for men of low degree, they are vanity;” the voice of the crowd

is not worth having; and as for “men of high degree, they are a lie,” which

is worse still. The world is not to be trusted in, not to be relied upon. The

true Christian treads it beneath his feet, with “all that earth calls good or

great.” Look around thee my brother; thou wilt see some good hearts,

strong and valiant, thou wilt see some true souls, sincere and honest, thou

wilt see some faithful lovers of Christ; but I tell thee O child of light, that

where thou meetest one sincere man, thou wilt meet twenty hypocrites,

where thou wilt find one that will lead thee to heaven, thou wilt find a

score who would push thee to hell. Thou err in a land of enemies, not of

friends. Never believe the world is good for much. Many people have

burned their fingers by taking hold of it. Many a man has been injured by

putting his hand into a nest of the rattlesnake — the world; thinking that

the dazzling hues of the sleeping serpent were securities from harm. O

Christian! the world is not thy friend. If it is, then thou art not God’s

friend; for he who is the friend of the world is the enemy of God; and he

who is despised of men, is often loved of Jehovah. Thou art in an enemy’s

country, man: therefore, expect trouble: expect that the man who “eats thy

bread will lift up his heel against thee;” expect that thou shalt be estranged

from those that love thee; be assured that, since thou art in the land of the

foe, thou shalt find foemen everywhere. When thou sleepest, think that

thou sleepest on the battle-field, when thou walkest believe that there is an

ambush in every hedge. Oh! take heed, take heed this is no good world to

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shut thine eyes in. Look around thee, man; and when thou art upon the

watch-tower, reckon surely that trouble cometh.

But then, look within thee. There is a little world in here, which is quite

enough to give us trouble. A Roman once said he wished he had a window

to his heart, that all people might see what was going on there. I am very

glad I have not if I had, I would shut it up as closely as Apsley House used

to be, I would take care to have all the shutters up. Most of us would have

great need of shutters if we had such a window. However, for one

moment, peep into the window of thine heart, to observe what is there. Sin

is there — original sin and corruption; and, what is more, self is still within.

Ah! if thou hadst no devil to tempt thee, thou wouldest tempt thyself; if

there were no enemies to fight thee, thyself would be thy worst foe; if there

were no world, still thyself would be bad enough; for “the heart is deceitful

above all things, and desperately wicked.” Look within thee, believer,

know that thou bearest a cancer in thy very vitals; that thou carriest within

thee a bomb-shell, ready to burst at the slightest spark of temptation, know

that thou hast inside thy heart an evil thing, a coiled-up viper, ready to

sting thee and bring thee into trouble, and pain, and misery unutterable.

Take heed of your heart, Christian; and when thou findest sorrow, trouble,

and care, look within and say, “Verily, I may well receive this, considering

the evil heart of unbelief which I carry about with me.” Now dost thou see,

brother Christian? No hope to escape trouble is there. What shall we do

then? There is no chance for us. We must bear suffering and affliction;

therefore, let us endure it cheerfully. Some of us are the officers in God’s

regiments, and we are the mark of all the riflemen of the enemy. Standing

forward, we have to bear all the shots. What a mercy it is that not one of

God’s officers ever fall in battle! God always keeps them. When the arrows

fly fast, the shield of faith catches them all; and when the enemy is most

angry, God is most pleased. So, for aught we care, the world may go on,

the devil may revile, flesh may rise, “for we are more than conquerers

through him that hath loved us.” Therefore, all honor be unto God alone.

Expect suffering — this is our first point.

sufferings are said to be the sufferings of Christ. Now, suffering in itself is

not an evidence of Christianity.

There are many people who have trials and troubles who are not children

of God. I have heard some poor whining people come and say, “I know I

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am a child of God, because I am in debt, because I am in poverty, because

I am in trouble.” Do you indeed? I know a great many rascals in the same

condition; and I don’t believe you are a child of God any the more because

you happen to be in poor circumstances. There are abundance who are in

trouble and distress besides God’s children. It is not the peculiar lot of

God’s family, and if I had no other ground of my hope as a Christian,

except my experience of trials, I should have but very poor ground indeed.

But there is a distinction to be noticed. Are these sufferings the sufferings

of Christ or are they not? A man is dishonest, and is put in jail for it; a man

is a coward and men hiss at him for it; a man is insincere, and, therefore,

persons avoid him. Yet he says he is persecuted. Persecuted! Not at all; it

serves him right. He deserves it. But such persons will comfort themselves

with the thought, that they are “the dear people of God,” because other

people avoid them, when it so happens that they just deserve it. They do

not live as they ought to do, therefore the world’s punishment is their

desert. Take heed, beloved, that your sufferings are the sufferings of

Christ, be sure they are not your own sufferings; for if they are, you will

get no relief: It is only when they are the sufferings of Jesus that we may

take comfort. “Well,” you say, “what is meant by our sufferings being the

sufferings of Christ?” You know the word “Christ” in the Bible sometimes

means the whole Church with Christ, as in 1 Corinthians xii.12, and several

other passages which I cannot just now remember; but you will call to

mind a scripture where it says, “I fill up that which is behind of the

sufferings of Christ, for his body’s sake, which is the Church.” Now, as

Christ, the head, had a certain amount of suffering to endure, so the body

must also have a certain weight laid upon it. Our afflictions are the

sufferings of Christ mystical, the sufferings of Christ’s body, the sufferings

of Christ’s church, for you know that if a man could be so tall as to have

his head in heaven and his feet at the bottom of the sea, it would be the

same body, and the head would feel the sufferings of the feet. So, though

my head is in heaven, and I am on earth, my griefs are Christ’s griefs; my

trials are Christ’s trials, my afflictions, he suffers.

The trials of a true Christian are as much the sufferings of Christ, as the

agonies of Calvary.

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Still you say, “We want to discern whether our troubles are the trials of

Christ.” Well, they are the trials of Christ, if you suffer for Christ’s sake. If

you are called to endure hardness for the sake of the truth, then those are

the sufferings of Christ. If you suffer for your ownsake, it may be a

punishment for your own sins; but if you endure for Christ’s sake, then

they are the trials of Christ. “But,” say some, “is there any persecution

now-a-days? Do any Christians have to suffer for Christ’s sake now?”

Suffer, sirs! Yes. “I could a tale unfold” this morning, if I pleased, of

bigotry insufferable, of persecution well nigh as bad as that in the days of

Mary; only our foes have not the power and the law on their side. I could

tell you of some who, from the simple fact, that they choose to come and

hear this despised young man, this ranting fellow, are to be looked upon as

the offscouring of all things. Many are the persons who come to me, who

have to lead a miserable and unhappy life, simply because from my lips they

heard the word of truth. Still, despite of all that is said, they will hear it

now. I have, I am sure, many before me, whose eyes would drop with

tears, if I were to tell their history — some who have privately sent me

word of how they have to suffer for Christ’s sake, because they choose to

hear whom they please. Why, is it not time that men should choose to do

as they like. If I do not care to do just as other ministers do, have not I a

right to preach as I please? If I haven’t I will — that is all. And have not

other parties a right to hear me if they like, without asking the lords and

governors of the present day, whether the man is really clerical or not.

Liberty! liberty! Let persons do as they please. But liberty — where is it?

Ye say it is in Britain. It is, in a measure but not thoroughly. However, I

rejoice that there are some who say, “Well, my soul is profited: and let men

say what they will, I will hold hard and fast to truth, and to the place where

I hear the word to my soul’s edification.” So, dear hearts, go on, go on;

and if ye suffer for Christ’s sake, they are Christ’s sufferings. If ye came

here simply because ye gained anything by it, then your sufferings would be

your own; but since there is nothing to gain but the profit of your own

souls, still hold on; and whate’er is said, your persecution will but win you

a brighter crown in glory.

Ah! Christian, this ennobles us. My brethren, this makes us proud and

happy to think that our trials are the trials of Jesus. Oh! I think it must have

been some honor to the old soldier, who stood by the Iron Duke in his

battles, to be able to say, “We fight under the good old Duke, who has

won so many battles: and when he wins, part of the honor will be ours.”

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Christian, thou fightest side by side with Jesus, Christ is with thee; every

blow is a blow aimed at Christ; every slander is a slander on Christ; the

battle is the Lord’s; the triumph is the Lord’s; therefore, still on to victory!

I remember a story of a great commander, who, having won many glorious

victories, led his troops into a defile, and when there, a large body of the

enemy entirely surrounded him. He knew a battle was inevitable on the

morning, he therefore went round to all the tents, to hear in what condition

his soldier’s minds were — whether they were dispirited or not. He came

to one tent, and as he listened, he heard a man say. “There is our general;

he is very brave, but he is very unwise this time; he has fed us into a place

where we are sure to be beaten; there are so many of the enemy’s cavalry,

so many infantry;” and then the man counted up all the troops on their own

side, and made them only so many. Then the commander, after he had

heard the tale, gently drew aside a part of the tent, and said, “How many

do you count me for? You have counted the infantry and calvary; but how

many do you count me for — me, your mighty captain, who have won so

many victories.” Now, Christian, I say, how many do you count Christ for?

How many do you put him down for? Hast thou put him down for one? He

is not one, nor a thousand: he is the “chief among ten thousand.” But he is

more than that. Oh! put him down for a high figure; and when thou

countest up thine aids and auxiliaries, put down Christ for all in all, for in

him victory is certain — the triumph is secure.

sufferings of Christ abound in us, so the consolations of Christ abound.

Here is a blessed proportion. God always keeps a pair of scales — in this

side he puts his people’s trials and in that he puts their consolations. When

the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of

consolation in nearly the same condition; and when the scale of trials is full,

you will find the scale of consolation just as heavy; for as the sufferings of

Christ abound in us, even so shall consolation abound by Christ. This is a

matter of pure experience. Some of you do not know anything at all about

it. You are not Christians, you are not born again, you are not converted,

ye are unregenerate, and, therefore, ye have never realized this wonderful

proportion between the sufferings and the consolations of a child of God.

Oh! it is mysterious that, when the black clouds gather most, the light

within us is always the brightest. When the night lowers and the tempest is

coming on, the heavenly captain is always closest to his crew. It is a

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blessed thing, when we are most cast down, then it is that we are most

lifted up by the consolations of Christ. Let me show you how.

The first reason is, because trials make more room for consolation. There

is nothing makes a man have a big heart like a great trial. I always find that

little, miserable people, whose hearts are about the size of a grain of

mustard-seed, never have had much to try them. I have found that those

people who have no sympathy for their fellows — who never weep for the

sorrows of others — very seldom have had any woes of their own. Great

hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the

reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God

comes into our heart — he finds it full — he begins to break our comforts

and to make it empty; than there is more room for grace. The humbler a

man lies, the more comfort he will always have. I recollect walking with a

ploughman one day — a man who was deeply taught, although he was a

ploughman, and really ploughmen would make a great deal better

preachers than many college gentlemen — and he said to me, “Depend

upon it, my good brother, if you or I ever get one inch above the ground,

we shall get just that inch too high.” I believe it is true; for the lower we

lie, the nearer to the ground we are — the more our troubles humble us —

the more fit we are to receive comfort; and God always gives us comfort

when we are most fit for it. That is one reason why consolations increase in

the same ratio as our trials.

Then again, trouble exercises our graces, and the very exercise of our

graces tends to make us more comfortable and happy. Where showers fall

most, there the grass is greenest. I suppose the fogs and mists of Ireland

make it “the Emerald Isle;” and wherever you find great fogs of trouble,

and mists of sorrow, you always find emerald green hearts: full of the

beautiful verdure of the comfort and love of God. O Christian, do not thou

be saying, “Where are the swallows gone? they are gone: they are dead.”

They are not dead, they have skimmed the purple sea, and gone to a far off

land; but they will be back again by and by. Child of God, say not the

flowers are dead; say not the winter has killed them, and they are gone.

Ah! no; though winter hath coated them with the ermine of its snow; they

will put up their heads again, and will be alive very soon. Say not, child of

God, that the sun is quenched, because the cloud hath hidden it. Ah! no; he

is behind there, brewing summer for thee; for when he cometh out again,

he will have made the clouds fit to drop in April showers, all of them

mothers of the sweet May flowers. And oh! above all, when thy God hides

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his face, say not, that he has forgotten thee. He is but tarrying a little while

to make thee love him better; and when he cometh, thou shalt have joy in

the Lord, and shalt rejoice with joy unspeakable. Waiting, exercises our

grace; waiting, tries our faith; therefore, wait on in hope; for though the

promise tarry, it can never come too late.

Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles is this — then

we have the closest dealings with God. I speak from heart knowledge and

real experience. We never have such close dealings with God, as when we

are in tribulation. When the barn is full, man can live without God; when

the purse is bursting with gold, we somehow can do without so much

prayer. But once take your gourds away, you want your God; once cleanse

away the idols out of the house, then you-must go and honor Jehovah.

Some of you do not pray half as much as you ought. If you are the children

of God, you will have the whip, and when you have that whip, you will run

to your Father. It is a fine day, and the child walks before its father; but

there is a lion in the road, now he comes and takes his father’s hand. He

could run half-a-mile before him when all was fine and fair; but once bring

the lion, and it is “father! father!” as close as he can be. It is even so with

the Christian. Let all be well, and he forgets God. Jeshurun waxes fat, and

be begins to kick against God; but take away his hopes, blast his joys, let

the infant lie in the coffin, let the crops be blasted, let the herd be cut off

from the stall; let the husband’s broad shoulder be in the grave, let the

children be fatherless — then it is that God is a God indeed. Oh, strip me

naked; take from me all I have; make me poor, a beggar, penniless,

helpless, dash that cistern in pieces, crush that hope, quench the stars; put

out the sun, shroud the moon in darkness, and place me all alone in space,

without a friend, without a helper; still, “Out of the depths will I cry unto

thee, O God.” There is no cry so good as that which comes from the

bottom of the mountains, no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up

from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they

bring us to God, and we are happier; for that is the way to be happy — to

live near to God. So that while troubles abound, they drive us to God, and

then consolations abound.

Some people call troubles weights. Verily they are so. A ship that has large

sails and a fair wind, needs ballast. Troubles are the ballast of a believer.

The eyes are the pumps which fetch out the bilge-water of his soul, and

keep him from sinking. But if trials be weights, I will tell you of a happy

secret. There is such a thing as making a weight lift you. If I have a weight

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chained to me, it keeps me down, but give me pulleys and certain

appliances, and I can make it lift me up. Yes, there is such a thing as

making troubles raise me towards heaven. A gentlemen once asked a

friend, concerning a beautiful horse of his, feeding about in the pasture

with a clog on its foot, “Why do you clog such a noble animal?” “Sir,” said

he, “I would a great deal sooner clog him than lose him: he is given to leap

hedges.” That is why God clogs his people. He would rather clog them

than lose them; for if he did not clog them, they would leap the hedges and

be gone. They want a tether to prevent their straying, and their God binds

them with afflictions, to keep them near to him, to preserve them, and have

them in his presence. Blessed fact — as our troubles abound, our

consolations also abound.

is a truth, that put them in prison, and they still will sing; like many birds,

they sing best in their cages. It is true that when waves roll over them, their

soul never sinks. It is true they have a buoyancy about them which keeps

their heads always above the water, and helps them to sing in the dark,

dark night, “God is with me still.” But to whom shall we give the honor?

To whom shall the glory be given? Oh! to Jesus, to Jesus; for the text says

it is all by Jesus. It is not because I am a Christian that I get joy in my

trouble — not necessarily so; it is not always the fact that troubles bring

their consolations; but it is Christ who comes to me. I am sick in my

chamber; Christ cometh up stairs, he sitteth by my bedside, and he talketh

sweet words to me. I am dying; the chilly cold waters of Jordan have

touched my foot, I feel my blood stagnate and freeze. I must die; Christ

puts his arms around me, and says, “Fear not, beloved; to die is to be

blessed, the waters of death have their fountain head in heaven, they are

not bitter, they are sweet as nectar, for they flow from the throne of God.”

I wade in the stream, the billows gather around me, I feel that my heart and

my flesh fail; but there is the same voice in my ears, “Fear not; I am with

thee! be not dismayed; I am thy God.” Now, I come to the borders of the

infinite unknown, that country “from whose bourne no traveler returns;” I

stand almost affrighted to enter the realm of shades; but a sweet voice says,

“I will be with thee whithersoever thou goest; if thou shouldst make thy

bed in Hades I will be with thee;” and I still go on, content to die, for Jesus

cheers me; he is my consolation and my hope. Ah! ye who know not that

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matchless name, Jesus, ye have lost the sweetest note which e’er can give

melody. Ah! ye who have never been entranced by the precious sonnet

contained in that one word Jesu, ye who know not that Jesu means, I-ESU,

(“I ease you”) ye have lost the joy and comfort of your lives, and ye

must live miserable and unhappy. But the Christian can rejoice, since Christ

will never forsake him, never leave him, but will be with him.

A word or two to characters — First, I have a word with you who are

expecting troubles, and are very sad because you are looking forward to

them. Take the advice of the common people, and “never cross a bridge till

you get to it.” Follow my advice: never bring your troubles nearer than

they are, for they will be sure to come down upon you soon enough. I

know that many persons fret themselves about their trials be fore they

come. What on earth is the good of it? If you will show me any benefit in

it, I will say go on, but to me it seems quite enough for the Father to lay

the rod on the child without the child chastising itself. Why should you do

so? You, who are afraid of trouble, why should you be so? The trial may

never overtake you; and if it does come, strength will come with it.

Therefore, up with thee, man, who are sitting down groaning, because of

forebodings.

Out on thee! Up! up! Why wilt thou sit down and be frozen to death?

When trouble comes, then fight it with manful heart and strong, plunge into

the stream, accoutred as thou art, and swim it through, but oh! do not fear

it before it comes.

Then Christian in trouble, I have a word to say with thee. So my brother,

thou art in trouble, thou art come into the waves of affliction, art thou? No

strange thing is it brother? Thou hast been there many times before. “Ah,”

but sayest thou, “this is the worst I ever had. I have come up here this

morning with a millstone round my neck. I have a mine of lead in my heart:

I am miserable, I am unhappy, I am cast down exceedingly.” Well, but

brother, as thy troubles abound, so shall thy consolation. Brother, hast thou

hung thy harp upon the willows? I am glad thou hast not broken the harp

altogether. Better, to hang it on the willows than to break it; be sure not to

break it. Instead of being distressed about thy trouble, rejoice in it; thou

wilt then honor God, thou wilt glorify Christ, thou wilt bring sinners to

Jesus, if thou wilt sing in the depths of trouble, for then they will say,

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“There must be something in religion after all, otherwise the man would

not be so happy.”

Then one word with you who are almost driven to despair. I would stretch

my hands out, if I could, this morning — for I believe a preacher ought to

be a Briareus, with a thousand hands to fetch out his hearers, one by one,

and speak to them. There is a man here quite despairing — almost every

hope gone. Brother, shall I tell thee what to do? Thou hast fallen off the

main deck, thou art in the sea, the floods surround thee, thou seemest to

have no hope, thou catchest at straws, what shalt thou do now? Do? why

lie upon the sea of trouble, and float upon it, be still, and know that God is

God, and thou wilt never perish. All thy kicking and struggling will sink

thee deeper; but lie still, for behold the life-boat cometh; Christ is coming

to thy help; soon he will deliver thee, and fetch thee out of all thy

perplexities.

Lastly, some of you have no interest in this sermon at all. I never try to

deceive my hearers by making them believe that all I say belongs to all who

hear me. There are different characters in God’s word, it is yours to search

your own hearts this day, and see whether ye are God’s people, or not. As

the Lord liveth before whom I stand, there are two classes here. I do not

own the distinction of aristocratic and democratic; in my sight, and in

God’s sight, every man is alike. We are made of one flesh and blood; we

do not have china gentlemen and earthenware poor people, we are all made

of the same mould of fashion. There is one distinction, and only one. Ye

are all either the children of God, or children of the devil, ye are all either

born again, or dead in trespasses and sins. It is yours to let the question

ring in your ears: “Where am I? Is yon black tyrant, with his fiery sword,

my king; or do I own Jehovah-Jesus as my strength, my shield, my

Savior?” I shall not force you to answer it, I shall not say anything to you

about it. Only answer it yourselves, let your hearts speak, let your souls

speak. All I can do is to propose the question. God apply it to your souls! I

beseech him to send it home and make the arrow stick fast!

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