The Spurgeon Series 1855 & 1856. Charles H. Spurgeon

not mitigate the penalty.” She still holds the scales. The plea is in vain. “Never will I change!” she cries; “bring me the blood, bring me the price to its utmost; count it down, or else, sinner, you shall die.”

      15. Now, my friends, I ask you, if you consider the spirituality of the law, the perfection it requires, and its unflinching severity, are you prepared to take away the sting of death in your own person? Can you hope to overcome sin yourselves? Can you trust that by some righteous works you may yet cancel your guilt? If you think so, go, foolish one, go! Oh madman, go! work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, without the God that works in you; go, twist your rope of sand; go, build a pyramid of air; go, prepare a house with bubbles, and think it is to last for ever; but know, it will be a dream with an awful awakening, for as a dream when one awakes he will equally despise your image and your righteousness. “The strength of sin is the law.”

      16. III. But now, in the last place, we have before us THE VICTORY OF FAITH. The Christian is the only champion who can strike the dragon of death; and even he cannot do it for himself, but when he has done it, he shall cry, “Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” One moment, and I will show you how the Christian can look upon death with complacency through the merits of Jesus Christ.

      17. First, Christ has taken away the strength of sin in this respect, that he has removed the law. We are not under bondage, but under grace. Law is not our directing principle, grace is. Do not misunderstand me. The principle that I must do a thing — that is to say, the principle of law, “do, or be punished; do, or be rewarded,” is not the motive of the Christian’s life; his principle is grace: “God has done so much for me, what ought I to do for him?” We are not under the law in that sense, but under grace.

      18. Then Christ has removed the law in this sense, that he has completely satisfied it. The law demands a perfect righteousness; Christ says, “Law, you have it; find fault with me. I am the sinner’s substitute, have I not kept your commandments? How have I violated your statutes?” “Come here, my beloved,” he says, and then he cries to Justice, “Find a fault in this man, I have put my robe upon him; I have washed him in my blood; I have cleansed him from his sin. All the past is gone; as for the future, I have secured it by sanctification; as for the penalty, I have borne it myself; at one tremendous draught of love, I have drunk that man’s destruction dry; I have borne what he should have suffered; I have endured the agonies he ought to have endured. Justice, have I not satisfied you? Did I not say upon the tree, and did you not agree with it, ‘It is finished! it is finished!’ Have I not made so complete an atonement that there is now no need for that man to die and expiate his guilt? Did I not complete the perfect righteousness of this poor once condemned but now, justified spirit?” “Yes,” Justice says, “I am well satisfied, and even more content, if possible, than if the sinner had brought a spotless righteousness of his own.” And now what says the Christian after this? Boldly he comes to the realms of death, and entering the gates there, he cries, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect!” And when he has said it, the dragon drops his sting, he descends into the grave; he passes by the place where fiends lie down in fetters of iron; he sees their chains, and looks into the dungeon where they dwell, and as he passes by the prison door, he shouts, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect!” They growl, and bite their iron bonds, and hiss in secret, but they cannot lay anything to his charge. Now see him mount aloft. He approaches God’s heaven, he comes before the gates, and faith still triumphantly shouts, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?” And a voice comes from within: “Not Christ, for he has died; not God, for he has justified.” Received by Jesus, faith enters heaven, and again she cries, “Who,” even here among the spotless and ransomed, “shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?” Now the law is satisfied; sin is gone; and now surely we need not fear the sting of the dragon, but we may say as Paul did, when he rose into the majesty of poetry — such beautiful poetry, that Pope himself borrowed his words, only transposing the sentences — “Oh grave, where is your victory? Oh death, where is your sting?”

      19. If it were necessary tonight, I might speak to you concerning the resurrection, and I might tell you how much that takes away the sting of death, but I will confine myself to the simple fact, that “the sting of death is sin,” that “the strength of sin is the law,” and that Christ gives us the victory, by taking the sting away, and removing the strength of sin by his perfect obedience.

      20. And now, sirs, how many are there here who have any hope that for them Christ Jesus died? Am I coming too close to home, when most solemnly I put the question to each one of you, as I stand in God’s presence this night, to free my head of your blood; as I stand and appeal with all the earnestness this heart is capable of. Are you prepared to die? Is sin pardoned? Is the law satisfied? Can you view the flowing

      Of Christ’s soul redeeming blood,

      With divine assurance knowing,

      That he made your peace with God?

      Oh, can you now put one hand upon your heart, and the other upon the Bible, and say, “God’s word and I agree; the witness of the Spirit here and the witness there are one. I have renounced my sins; I have given up my evil practices; I have abhorred my own righteousness; I trust in nothing but Jesus’ doings; simply do I depend on him.

      Nothing in my hands I bring,

      Simply to your cross I cling.”

      If so, were you to die where you are — sudden death would be sudden glory.

      21. But, my hearers, shall I be faithful with you? or shall I belie my soul? Which shall it be? Are there not many here who, each time the bell tolls the departure of a soul, might well ask the question, “Am I prepared?” and they must say, “No.” I shall not turn prophet tonight, but if it were right for me to say so, I fear not one half of you are prepared to die. Is that true? Yes, let the speaker ask himself the question, “Am I prepared to meet my Maker face to face?” Oh, sit in your seats and catechise your souls with that solemn question. Let each one ask himself, “Am I prepared, should I be called to die?” I think I hear one say with confidence, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” “Let him that thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.” I hear another say with trembling accents —

      A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,

      On Christ’s kind arms I fall;

      He is my strength and righteousness,

      My Jesus and my all.

      Yes, sweet words! I would rather have written that one verse than Milton’s “Paradise Lost.” It is such a matchless picture of the true condition of the believing soul. But I hear another say, “I shall not answer such a question as that. I am not going to be dull today. It may be gloomy weather outside today, but I do not want to be made melancholy.” Young man, young man, go your way. Let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth; but for all this the Lord shall bring you to judgment. What will you do, careless spirit, when your friends have forsaken you, when you are alone with God? You do not like to be alone, young man, now, do you? A falling leaf will startle you. To be alone an hour will bring on an insufferable feeling of melancholy. But you will be alone — and a dreary alone it will be — with God an enemy! What will you do in the swellings of Jordan? What will you do when he takes you by the hand at eventide, and asks you for an account; when he says, “What did you do in the beginning of your days? How did you spend your life?” When he asks you, “Where are the years of your manhood?” When he questions you about your wasted Sundays, and enquires how your latter years were spent? What will you say then? Speechless, without an answer you will stand. Oh, I beseech you, as you love yourselves, take care! Even now begin to weigh the solemn matters of eternal life. Oh! do not say, “Why so earnest? why in such haste?” Sirs, if I saw you lying in your bed and your house was on fire, the fire might be at the bottom of the house and you might slumber safely for the next five minutes; but with all my might I would pull you from your bed, or I would shout, “Awake! awake! the flame is under you.” So with some of you who are sleeping over hell’s