THE VICTORY OF FAITH.

occurring, while the Spirit enters into every sentence. Each letter is

thoroughly soaked and impregnated with this heavenly honey. If he speaks

of God, his name must be love; are the brethren mentioned, he loves them;

and even of the world itself, he writes, “God so loved the world that he

gave his only begotten Son.” From the opening to the conclusion, love is

the manner, love the matter, love the motive, and love the aim. We stand,

therefore, not a little astonished, to find such martial words in so peaceful a

writing, for I hear a sound of war. It is not the voice of love, surely, that

says, “He that is born of God overcometh the world.” Lo, here are strife

and battle. The word “overcometh” seems to have in it something of the

sword and warfare; of strife and contention; of agony and wrestling; so

unlike the love which is smooth and gentle, which hath no harsh words

within its lips; whose mouth is lined with velvet, whose words are softer

than butter; whose utterances are more easily flowing than oil. Here we

have war — war to the knife, for I read, “Whatsoever is born of God

overcometh the world,” strife until death; battle throughout life; fighting

with a certainty of victory. How is it that the same gospel which always

speaks of peace, here proclaims a warfare? How can it be? Simply because

there is something in the world which is antagonistic to love; there are

principles abroad which cannot bear light, and, therefore, before light can

come it must chase the darkness. Ere summer reigns, you know, it has to

do battle with old winter, and to send it howling away in the winds of

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March, and shedding its tears in April shows. So also, before any great or

good thing can have the mastery of this world, it must do battle for it.

Satan has seated him self on his blood-stained throne, and who shall get

him down, except by main force, and fight, and war? Darkness broods o’er

the rations; nor can the sun establish his empire of light until he has pierced

night with the arrowy sunbeams, and made it flee away. Hence we read in

the Bible that Christ did not come to send peace on earth, but a sword; he

came to set “the father against the son, and the son against the father; the

mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the

mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law, and the daughter-in-law against

her mother-in-law,” not intentionally, but as a means to an end; because

there must always be a struggle ere truth and righteousness can reign. Alas!

for that earth is the battle-field where good must combat with evil. Angels

look on and hold their breath, burning to mingle in the conflict, but the

troops of the Captain of Salvation may be none but the soldiers of the

cross; and that slender band must fight alone, and yet shall triumph

gloriously. Enough shall they be for conquest, and the motto of their

As God shall help me, I shall speak to you of three things to be found in

the next. First, the text speaks of a great victory: it says, “This is the

victory.” Secondly, it mentions a great birth: “Whatsoever is born of

God.” And, thirdly, it extols a great grace, whereby we overcome the

world, “even our faith.”

the greatest of all. We know there have been great battles where nations

have met in strife, and one has overcome the other; but who has read of a

victory that over came the world? Some will say that Alexander was its

conqueror; but I answer, nay. He was himself the vanquished man, even

when all things were in his possession. He fought for the world, and won

it, and then mark how it mastered its master, conquered its conquerer, and

lashed the monarch who had been its scourge. See the royal youth

weeping, and stretching out his hands with idiotic cries, for another world

which he might ravage. He seemed, in outward show, to have overcome

old earth; but, in reality, within his inmost soul, the earth had conquered

him, had overwhelmed him, had wrapped him in the dream of ambition,

girdled him with the chains of covetousness, so that when he had all, he

was still dissatisfied, and, like a poor slave, was dragged on at the chariot

wheels of the world, crying, moaning, lamenting, because he could not win

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another. Who is the man that ever overcame the world? Let him stand

forward: he is a Triton among the minnows; he shall outshine Caesar; he

shall outmatch even our own lately departed Wellington, if he can say he

has overcome the world. It is so rare a thing, a victory so prodigious, a

conquest so tremendous, that he who can claim to have won it may walk

among his fellows, like Saul with head and shoulders far above them. He

shall command our respect, his very presence shall awe us into reverence;

his speech shall persuade us to obedience; and, yielding honor to whom

honor is due, we’ll say when we listen to his voice, “’Tis even as if an angel

shook his wings.”

I shall now attempt to expand the idea I have suggested, showing you in

what varied senses the Christian overcomes the world. A tough battle, sirs,

I warrant you: not one which carpet knights might win: no easy skirmish

that he might win, who dashed to battle on some sunshiny day, looked at

the host, then turned his courser’s rein, and daintily dismounted at the door

of his silken tent — not one which he shall gain, who, but a raw recruit today,

puts on his regimentals, and foolishly imagines that one week of

service will ensure a crown of glory. Nay sirs, it is a life-long war — a fight

needing the power of all these muscles, and this strong heart; a contest

which shall want all our strength, if we are to be triumphant; and if we do

come off more than conquerors, it shall be said of us, as Hart said of Jesus

Christ: “He had strength enough and none to spare;” a battle at which the

stoutest heart might quail; a fight at which the braves might shake, if he did

not remember that the Lord is on his side, and therefore, whom shall he

fear? He is the strength of his life; of whom shall he be afraid? This fight

with the world is not one of main force, or physical might, if it were, we

might soon win it; but it is all the more dangerous from the fact that it is a

strife of mind, a contest of heart, a struggle of the spirit, a strife of the soul.

When we overcome the world in one fashion, we have not half done our

work; for the world is a Proteus, changing its shape continually; like the

chameleon, it hath all the colors of the rainbow, and when you have

worsted the world in one shape, it will attack you in another. Until you die,

you will always have fresh appearances of the world to wrestle with. Let

me just mention some of the forms in which the Christian overcomes the

world.

teach him customs. You know the world has its old massive law book of

customs, and he who does not choose to go according to the fashion of the

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world, is under the ban of society. Most of you do just as everybody else

does, and that is enough for you. If you see so-and-so do a dishonest thing

in business, it is sufficient for you that everybody does it. If ye see that the

majority of mankind have certain habits, ye succomb, ye yield. Ye think, I

suppose, that to march to hell in trowds, will help to diminish the fierce

heat of the burning of the bottomless pit, instead of remembering that the

more faggots the fiercer will be the flame. Men usually swim with the

stream like a dead fish; it is only the living fish that goes against it. It is

only the Christian who despises customs, who does not care for

conventionalisms, who only asks himself the question, “Is it right or is it

wrong? If it is right, I will be singular. If there is not another man in this

world who will do it, I will do it; should a universal hiss go up to heaven, I

will do it still; should the very stones of earth fly up and stone me to death

I will do it still; though they bind me to the stake, yet I must do it; I will be

singularly right, if the multitude will not follow me, I will go without them

I will be glad if they will all go and do right as well, but if not, I will

despise their customs; I care not what others do; I shall not be weighed by

other men; to my own Master I stand or fall. Thus I conquer and overcome

the customs of the world.” Fair world! she dresseth herself in ermine, she

putteth on the robes of a judge, and she solemnly telleth you, “Man, you

are wrong. Look at your fellows, see how they do. Behold my laws. For

hundreds of years have not men done so? Who are you, to set yourself up

against me?” And she pulls out her worm-eaten law-book, and turning over

the musty pages, says, “See, here is an act passed in the reign of

Nebuchadnezzar, and here is another law enacted in the days of Pharaoh.

These must be right, because antiquity has enrolled them among her

standard authorities. Do you mean to set yourself up and stand against the

opinions of the multitude?” Yes, we do; we take the law book of the

world, and we burn it, as the Ephesians did their magic rolls; we take her

deeds, and make them into waste paper; we rend her proclamation from the

walls; we care not what others do; custom to us is a cobweb; we count it

folly to be singular; but when to be singular is to be right, we count it the

proudest wisdom; we overcome the world; we trample on her customs; we

walk as a distinct people, a separate race, a chosen generation, a peculiar

people. The Christian behaves in his dealings not as the laughing infidel

insinuates, when he sneeringly describes Mawworm, as saying, “Boy, have

you sanded the sugar?” “Yes, sir.” “Have you put the sloe leaves in the

tea?” “Yes, sir.” “Have you put red lead in the pepper?” “Yes, sir.” “Then

come to prayers.” Christians do not do so; they say, “We know better; we

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cannot conform to the customs of the world. If we pray, we will also act,

or else we are hypocrites, confounded hypocrites. If we go to the house of

God, and profess to love him, we love him everywhere; we take our

religion with us into the shop, behind the counter; into our offices, we must

have it everywhere, or else God knows it is not religion at all.” Ye must

stand up then, against the customs of mankind. Albeit, this may be a threemillion

peopled city, ye are to come out and be separate, if ye would

overcome the world.

conduct of our enemy? She changes her aspect. “That man is a heretic; that

man is a fanatic; he is a cant, he is a hypocrite,” says the world directly.

She grasps her sword, she putteth frowns upon her brow, she scowleth like

a demon, she girdeth tempests round about her, and she saith, “The man

dares defy my government; he will not do as others do. Now I will

persecute him. Slander! come from the depths of hell and hiss at him.

Envy! sharpen up thy tooth and bite him.” She fetches up all false things,

and she persecutes the man if she can, she does it with the hand, if not, by

the tongue. She afflicts him wherever he is. She tries to ruin him in

business; or, if he standeth forth as the champion of the truth why then she

laugheth, and mocketh, and scorneth. She lets no stone be unturned

whereby she may injure him. What is then the behavior of the Lord’s

warrior when he sees the world take up arms against him, and when he

sees all earth, like an army, coming to chase him, and utterly destroy him?

Does he yield? Does he yield? Does he bend? Does he cringe? Oh, no! Like

Luther, he writes “Cedo nulli” on his banner — “I yield to none;” and he

goes to war against the world, if the world goes to war against him.

Ah! some of you, if you had a word spoken against you, would at once

give up what religion you have, but the true-born child of God cares little

for man’s opinion. “Ah,” says he, “let my bread fail me, let me be doomed

to wander penniless the wide world o’er; yea, let me die: each drop of

blood within these veins belongs to Christ, and I am ready to shed it for his

name’s sake.” He counts all things but loss, that he may win Christ — that

he may be found in him; and when the world’s thunders roars, he smiles at

the uproar, while he hums his pleasant tune: —

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When her sword comes out, he looketh at it. “Ah,” saith he, “just as the

lightning leapeth from its thunder lair, splitteth the clouds, and affrighteth

the stars, but is powerless against the rock-covered mountaineer, who

smiles at its grandeur, so now the world cannot hurt me, for in the time of

trouble my Father hides me in his pavillion, in the secret of his tabernacle

doth he hide me, and set me up upon a rock.” Thus, again, we conquer the

world, by not caring for its frowns.

the most dangerous of all. A smiling world is worse than a frowning one.

She saith, “I cannot smite the man low with my repeated blows, I will take

off my mailed glove and showing him a fair white hand, I’ll bid him kiss it.

I will tell him I love him: I will flatter him, I will speak good words to

him.” John Bunyan well describes this Madam Bubble; she has a winning

way with her; she drops a smile at the end of each of her sentences; she

talks much of fair things, and tries to win and woo. Oh, believe me,

Christians are not so much in danger when they are persecuted as when

they are admired. When we stand upon the pinnacle of popularity, we may

well tremble and fear. It is not when we are hissed at, and hooted, that we

have any cause to be alarmed; it is when we are dandled on the lap of

fortune, and nursed upon the knees of the people; it is when all men speak

well of us that woe is unto us. It is not in the cold wintry wind that I take

off my coat of righteousness, and throw it away; it is when the sun comes,

when the weather is warm, and the air balmy, that I unguardedly strip off

my robes, and become naked. Good God! how many a man has been made

naked by the love of this world! The world has flattered and applauded

him; he has drunk the flattery; it was an intoxicating draught, he has

staggered, he has reeled, he has sinned, he has lost his reputation; and as a

comet that erst dashed across the sky, doth wander far into space, and is

lost in darkness, so doth he; great as he was, he falls, mighty as he was, he

wanders, and is lost. But the true child of God is never so, he is as safe

when the world smiles, as when it frowns; he cares as little for her praise as

for her dispraise. If he is praised, and it is true, he says, “My deeds

deserves praise, but I refer all honor to my God.” Great souls know what

they merit from their critic; to them it is nothing more than the giving of

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their daily income, Some men cannot live without a large amount of praise;

and if they have no more than they deserve, let them have it. If they are

children of God, they will be kept steady, they will not be ruined or

spoiled; but they will stand with feet like hinds’ feet upon high places. — “

This is the victory that overcometh the world.”

affliction and sorrow, until life is a prison-house, the world its jailer — and

a wretched jailer too. Have you ever been in trials and troubles, my

friends? and has the world never come to you and said “Poor prisoner, I

have a key that will let you out.

You are in pecuniary difficulties; I will tell you how you may get free. Put

that Mr. Conscience away. He asks you whether it is a dishonest act. Never

mind about him; let him sleep; think about the honesty after you have got

the money, and repent at your leisure.” So saith the world; but you say, “I

cannot do the thing.” “Well,” says the world, “then groan and grumble: a

good man like you locked up in this prison!” “No,” says the Christian, “my

Father sent me into want, and in his own time he will fetch me out; but if I

die here I will not use wrong means to escape. My Father put me here for

my good, I will not grumble; if my bones must lie here — if my coffin is to

be under these stones — if my tombstone shall be in the wall of my

dungeon — here will I die, rather than so much lift a finger to get out by

unfair means.” “Ah,” says the world, “then thou art a fool.” The scorner

laughs and passes on, saying, “The man has no brain, he will not do a bold

thing; he hath no courage; he will not launch upon the sea; he wants to go

in the old beaten track of morality.” Ay, so he does; for thus he overcomes

the world.

Oh! I might tell you of some battles that have been fought. There has been

many a poor maiden, who has worked, worked, worked, until her fingers

were worn to the bone, to earn a scanty living out of the things which we

wear upon us, knowing not that ofttimes we wear the blood, and bones,

and sinews of poor girls. That poor girl has been tempted a thousand times,

the evil one has tried to seduce her, but she has fought a valiant battle;

stern in her integrity, in the midst of poverty she still stands upright, “Clear

as the sun, fair as the moon, and terrible as an army with banners,” a

heroine unconquered by the temptations and enticements of vice. In other

cases: many a man has had the chance of being rich in an hour, affluent in a

moment, if he would but clutch something which he dare not look at,

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because God within him said, “No.” The world said, “Be rich, be rich;” but

the Holy Spirit said, “No! be honest; serve thy God.” Oh, the stern contest

and the manly combat carried on within the heart! But he said, “No; could

I have the stars transmuted into worlds of gold, I would not for those

globes of wealth belie my principles, and damage my soul:” thus he walks a

conqueror. “This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.”

that while I was preaching in Exeter Hall I ought to pay deference to the

varied opinions of my hearers; that albeit I may be a Calvinist and a

Baptist, I should recollect that there are a variety of creeds here. Now, if I

were to preach nothing but what would please the whole lot of you, what

on earth should I do? I preach what I believe to be true; and if the omission

of a single truth that I believe, would make me king of England throughout

eternity, I would not leave it out. Those who do not like what I say have

the option of leaving it. They come here, I suppose, to please themselves,

and if the truth does not please them, they can leave it. I will never be

afraid that an honest British audience will turn away from the man who

does not stick, and stutter, and stammer in speaking the truth.

Well, now, about this great birth. I am going to say perhaps a harsh thing,

but I heard it said by Mr. Jay first of all. Some say a new birth takes place

in an infant baptism, but I remember that venerable patriarch saying,

“Popery is a lie, Puseyism is a lie, baptismal regeneration is a lie.” So it is.

It is a lie so palpable that I can scarcely imagine the preachers of it have

any brains in their heads at all. It is so absurd upon the very face of it, that

a man who believes it put himself below the range of a common-sense man.

Believe that every child by a drop of water is born again! Then that man

that you see in the ring as a prize-fighter is born again, because those

sanctified drops once fell upon his infant forehead! Another man swears —

behold him drunk and reeling about the streets. He is born again! A pretty

born again that is! I think he wants to be born again another time. Such a

regeneration as that only fits him for the devil; and by its deluding effect,

may even make him sevenfold more the child of hell. But the men who

curse, and swear, and rob and steal, and those poor wretches who are

hanged, have all been born again, according to the fiction of this beautiful

Puseyite church. Out upon it! out upon it! Ah, God sends something better

than that into men’s hearts, when he sends them a new birth.

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However, the text speaks of a great birth. “Whatsoever is born of God

overcometh the world.” This new birth is the mysterious point in all

religion. If you preach anything else except the new birth you will always

get on well with your hearers; but if you insist that in order to enter heaven

there must be a radical change, though this is the doctrine of the Scripture,

it is so unpalateable to mankind in general that you will scarcely get them

to listen. Ah! now ye turn away if I begin to tell you, that “except ye be

born of water and of the Spirit, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.” If

I tell you that there must be a regenerating influence exerted upon your

minds by the power of the Holy Ghost, then I know ye will say “it is

enthusiasm.” Ah! but it is the enthusiasm of the Bible. There I stand; by

this I will be judged. If the Bible does not say we must be born again, then

I give it up; but if it does then, sirs, do not distrust that truth on which your

salvation hangs.

What is it to be born again, then? Very briefly, to be born again is to

undergo a change so mysterious, that human words cannot speak of it. As

we cannot describe our first birth, so it is impossible for us to describe the

second. “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound

thereof; but canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth; so is every

one that is born of the Spirit.” But while it is so mysterious, it is a change

which is known and felt. People are not born again when they are in bed

and asleep, so that they do not know it. They feel it; they experience it.

Galvanism, or the power of electricity, may be mysterious; but they

produce a feeling — a sensation. So does the new birth. At the time of the

new birth the soul is in great agony — often drowned in seas of tears.

Sometimes it drinks bitters, now and then mingled with sweet drops of

hope. Whilst we are passing from death unto life, there is an experience

which none but the child of God can really understand. It is a mysterious

change; but, at the same time, it is a positive one. It is as much a change as

if this heart were taken out of me, and the black drops of blood wrung

from it, then washed and cleansed and put into my soul again. It is “a new

heart and a right spirit:” a mysterious but yet an actual and real change!

Let me tell you, moreover, that this change is a supernatural one. It is not

one that a man performs upon himself. It is not leaving off drinking and

becoming sober; it is not turning from a Roman Catholic to a Protestant; it

is not veering round from a Dissenter to a Churchman, or a Churchman to

a Dissenter. It is vast deal more than that. It is a new principle infused

which works in the heart, enters the very soul, and moves the entire man.

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Not a change of my name, but a renewal of my nature, so that I am not the

man I used to be, but a new man in Christ Jesus. It is a supernatural change

— something which man cannot do, and which only God can effect, which

the Bible itself cannot accomplish without the attendant Spirit of God;

which no minister’s eloquence can bring about — something so mighty and

wondrous, that it must be confessed to be the work of God, and God

alone. Here is the place to observe that this new birth is an enduring

change. Arminians tell us that people are born again, then fall into sin, pick

themselves up again, and become Christians again — fall into sin, lose the

grace of God, then come back again — fall into sin a hundred times in their

lives, and so keep on losing grace and recovering it. Well, I suppose it is a

new version of the Scripture where you read of that. But I read in my Bible

that if true Christians could fall away, it would be impossible to renew

them again unto repentance. I read, moreover, that wherever God has

begun a good work he will carry it on even to the end; and that whom he

once loves, he loves to the end. If I have simply been reformed, I may be a

drunkard yet, or you may see me acting on the stage. But if I am really

born again, with that real supernatural change, I shall never fall away, I

may fall into a sin, but I shall not fall finally; I shall stand while life shall

last, constantly secure; and when I die it shall be said —

Do not deceive yourselves, my beloved. If you imagine that you have been

regenerated, and having gone away from God, will be once more born

again, you do not know anything about the matter; for “he that is born of

God sinneth not.” That is, he does not sin so much as to fall away from

grace; “for he keepeth himself; that the evil one toucheth him not.” Happy

is the man who is really and actually regenerate, and passed from death

unto life!

really do overcome the world. How is this brought about? The text says,

“This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.” Christians

do not triumph over the world by reason. Not at all. Reason is a very good

thing, and nobody should find fault with it. Reason is a candle: but faith is a

sun. Well, I prefer the sun, though I do not put out the candle. I use my

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reason as a Christian man; I exercise it constantly: but when I come to real

warfare, reason is a wooden sword; it breaks, it snaps; while faith, that

sword of true Jerusalem metal, cuts to the dividing of soul and body. My

text says, “This is the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith.”

Who are the men that do anything in the world? Are they not always men

of faith? Take it even as natural faith. Who wins the battle? Why, the man

who knows he will win it, and vows that he will be victor. Who never gets

on in the world? The man who is always afraid to do a thing, for fear he

cannot accomplish it. Who climbs the top of the Alps? The man who says,

“I will do it, or I will die.” Let such a man make up his mind that he can do

a thing, and he will do it, if it is within the range of possibility. Who have

been the men who have lifted the standard, and grasping it with firm hand,

have upheld it in the midst of stormy strife and battle? Why, men of faith.

Who have done great things? Not men of fear and trembling, men who are

afraid; but men of faith, who had bold fronts and foreheads made of brass

— men who never shook, and never trembled, but believing in God, lifted

their eyes to the hills, whence cometh their strength.

“Never was a marvel done upon the earth, but it had sprung of faith;

nothing noble, generous, or great, but faith was the root of the

achievement, nothing comely, nothing famous, but its praise is faith.

Leonidas fought in human faith as Joshua in divine. Xenophon trusted to

his skill, and the sons of Matthias to their cause.” Faith is mightiest of the

mighty. It is the monarch of the realms of the mind, there is no being

superior to its strength, no creature which will not bow to its divine

prowess. The want of faith makes a man despicable, it shrivels him up so

small that he might live in a nutshell. Give him faith, and he is a leviathan

that can dive into the depths of the sea; he is a war horse, that cries, aha!

aha! in the battle; he is a giant who takes nations and crumbles them in his

hand, who encounters hosts, and at a sword they vanish, he binds up

sheaves of scepters, and gathers up all the crowns at his own. There is

nothing like faith, sirs. Faith makes you almost as omnipotent as God, by

the borrowed might of its divinity. Give us faith and we can do all things.

I want to tell you how it is that faith helps Christians to overcome the

world. It always does it homoeopathically. You say, “That is a singular

idea.” So it may be. The principle is that, “like cures like.” So does faith

overcome the world by curing like with like. How does faith trample upon

the fear of the world? By the fear of God. “Now,” says the world, “if you

do not do this I will take away your life. If you do not bow down before

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my false god, you shall be put in yon burning fiery furnace.” “But,” says

the man of faith, “I fear him who can destroy both body and soul in hell.

True, I may dread you, but I have a greater fear than that. I fear lest I

should displease God, I tremble lest I should offend my Sovereign.” So the

one fear counterbalances the other. How does faith overthrow the world’s

hopes? “There,” says the world, “I will give thee this, I will give thee that,

if thou wilt be my disciple. There is a hope for you; you shall be rich, you

shall be great.” But, faith says, “I have a hope laid up in heaven; a hope

which fadeth not away, eternal, incorrupt, amaranthine hope, a golden

hope, a crown of life;” and the hope of glory overcomes all the hopes of

the world. “Ah!” says the world, “Why not follow the example of your

fellows?” “Because,” says faith, “I will follow the example of Christ.” If the

world puts one example before us, faith puts another. “Oh, follow the

example of such an one, he is wise, and great, and good,” says the world.

Says faith, “I will follow Christ, he is the wisest, the greatest, and the best.”

It overcomes example by ex ample, “Well,” says the world, “since thou wilt

not be conquered by all this, come, I will love thee; thou shalt be my

friend.” Faith says, “He that is the friend of this world, cannot be the friend

of God. God loves me.” So he puts love against love; fear against fear;

hope against hope; dread against dread; and so faith overcomes the world

by like curing like.

In closing my discourse, men and brethren, I am but a child, I have spoken

to you as I could this morning. Another time, perhaps I might be able to

launch more thunders, and to proclaim better the word of God; but this I

am sure of — I tell you all I know, and speak right on. I am no orator; but

just tell you what springs up from my heart. But before I have done, O that

I may have a word with your souls. How many are there here who are born

again? Some turn a deaf ear, and say, “It is all nonsense; we go to our

place of worship regularly; put our hymn books and Bibles under our arm,

and we are very religious sort of people.” Ah, soul! if I meet you at the bar

of judgment, recollect I said — and said God’s word — “Except ye be

born again ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Others of you say,

“We cannot believe that being born again is such a change as you speak of,

I am a great deal better than I used to be; I do not swear now, and I am

very much reformed.” Sirs, I tell you it is no little change. It is not mending

the pitcher, but it is breaking it up and having a new one; it is not patching

the heart, it is having a new heart and a right spirit. There is nothing but

death unto sin, and life unto righteousness, that will save your souls.

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I am preaching no new doctrine. Turn to the articles of the Church of

England, and read it there. Church people come to me sometimes to unite

with our church; I show them our doctrines in their prayer book, and they

have said they never knew they were there. My dear hearers, why cannot

you read your own articles of faith? Why, positively, you do not know

what is in your own prayer book. Men, now-a-days, do not read their

Bibles, and they have for the most part no religion. They have a religion,

which is all outside show, but they do not think of searching to see what its

meaning really is. Sirs, it is not the cloak of religion that will do for you, it

is a vital godliness you need; it is not a religious Sunday, it is a religious

Monday; it is not a pious church, it is a pious closet; it is not a sacred place

to kneel in, it is a holy place to stand in all day long. There must be a

change of heart, real, radical, vital, entire. And now, what say you? Has

your faith overcome the world? Can you live above it? or do you love the

world and the things thereof? If so, sirs, ye must go on your way and

perish, each one of you, unless ye turn from that, and give your hearts to

Christ. Oh! what say you, is Jesus worthy of your love? Are the things of

eternity and heaven worth the things of time? Is it so sweet to be a

worldling, that for that you can lie down in torment? Is it so good to be a

sinner, that for this you can risk your soul’s eternal welfare? O, my friends,

is it worth your while to run the risk of an eternity of woe for a hour of

pleasure? Is a dance worth dancing in hell with howling fiends for ever? Is

one dream, with a horrid waking, worth enjoying, when there are the

glories of heaven for those who follow God? Oh! if my lips would let me

speak to you, my heart would run over at my eyes, and I would weep

myself away, until ye had pity on your own poor souls. I know I am, in a

measure, accountable for your souls. If the watchmen warn them not, they

shall perish, but their blood shall be required at the watchman’s hands.

“Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die, O house of Israel?” thus saith the Lord.

Besotted, filled with your evil wills, inclined to evil; still the Holy Ghost

speaks by me this morning, “If ye turn unto the Lord, with full purpose of

heart, he will have mercy upon you, and to our God, he will abundantly

pardon.” I cannot bring you; I cannot fetch you. My words are powerless,

my thoughts are weak! Old Adam is too strong for this young child to

draw or drag, but God speak to you, dear hearts, God send the truth home,

and then we shall rejoice together, both he that soweth and he that reapeth,

because God has given us the increase. God bless you; may you all be born

again, and have that faith that overcometh the world!”

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