Verse-by-Verse Bible Commentary
Job 23:3

Clarke's Commentary

Verse Job 23:3. O that I knew where I might find him! — This and the following verse may be read thus: "Who will give me the knowledge of God, that I may find him out? I would come to his establishment; (the place or way in which he has promised to communicate himself;) I would exhibit, in detail, my judgment (the cause I wish to be tried) before his face; and my mouth would I fill with convincing or decisive arguments;" arguments drawn from his common method of saving sinners, which I should prove applied fully to my case. Hence the confidence with which he speaks, Job 23:6.

Bridgeway Bible Commentary

Job’s reply to Eliphaz (23:1-24:25)

Again Job says that he is not rebelling against God or running away from him as his friends claim. On the contrary he wants to meet God, so that he can present his case to him and listen to God’s answer (23:1-5). He is confident that God will declare him innocent of the charges people have made against him (6-7).
No matter where Job has searched for God, he has not found him. He cannot see God, but God can see him. God knows he is upright, and one day, when this time of testing has proved him true, God will announce his righteousness to others (8-12). But until that day arrives, Job must bear his suffering. Nothing will change God’s mind, and Job is terrified as he thinks of what God may yet require him to go through (13-17).
Job wishes there were set times when God the judge was available for the downtrodden to bring their complaints to him and obtain justice (24:1). The poor and helpless are oppressed by the rich and powerful. Driven from their homes they are forced to wander like animals in the wilderness, eating whatever food they can find and sleeping under trees and rocks (2-8). If caught they are forced to sell their children as slaves or become slaves themselves. Yet God ignores their cries for help (9-12). Meanwhile murderers, sex perverts and thieves, who rely on the cover of darkness to carry out their evil deeds, seem to escape unpunished (13-17).
The friends say that these wicked people will quickly be swept away in judgment (18-20), but from Job’s observations, God allows them to go on living in comfort and security. When they die, their deaths are no different from the deaths of others (21-24). Job challenges his friends to prove him wrong in what he says (25).

Coffman's Commentaries on the Bible

JOB’S EIGHTH SPEECH:
JOB’S YEARNING FOR ACCESS TO GOD;
OH THAT I KNEW WHERE I MIGHT FIND HIM!

“Then Job answered and said, Even today is my complaint rebellious: My stroke is heavier than my groaning. Oh that I knew where I might find him! That I might come even to his seat. I would set my cause in order before him, And fill my mouth with arguments. I would know the words which he would answer me, And understand what he would say unto me. Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power? Nay, but he would give heed unto me. There the upright might reason with him; So should I be delivered forever from my judge. Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; And backward, but I cannot perceive him; On the left hand, when he doth work, but I cannot behold him; He hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him.”

This speech of Job is different from all the others in that it has no word at all directly addressed to his friends, being rather a monologue, or soliloquy, on the amazing riddle of God’s treatment of Job. This speech is recorded in two chapters; and Job 24 follows the same pattern, except that it embraces the riddle of God’s treatment of men generally.

In neither of these chapters did Job make any direct reference to what Eliphaz had said; but he did stress two main things, namely, (1) his innocence and integrity, and (2) his desire to commune with God which was prevented by his inability to find Him. These things, of course, were in refutation of what Eliphaz had said.

Job’s plight was pitiful; and the deep questionings of his soul evoke sympathy and concern in all who meditate upon them. The great fact here is that Job lived at a time long before the enlightenment that came with the Advent of Messiah. The Dayspring from On High had not yet illuminated the darkness that enveloped the pre-Christian world.

“Even today is my complaint rebellious” “Job’s friends considered his questionings regarding the government of the world, and his protestations of innocence as rebellion against God; and in these words, Job declares that he will continue to be a rebel in their eyes.”New Century Bible Commentary, p. 159. This passage positively does not mean that, “Job’s attitude has drifted into open rebellion.”The Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. III, p. 1079. Such an erroneous interpretation is flatly contradicted by what Job said in Job 23:10-11.

“Oh that I knew where I might find him” For Christians, the answer to this question is our Saviour. Jesus said, “He that hath seen me hath seen the Father” (John 14:9); but for Job there was a profound uncertainty and perplexity concerning the Father and his government of mankind.

Furthermore, we do not mean to infer that all of the doubts and uncertainties have been removed even for Christians. “We now see through a glass darkly” and we know “only in part.” (1 Corinthians 13:12). The mystery of God has not been finished yet (Revelation 10:7); and all of us should be careful to avoid the cocksure arrogant conceit of Eliphaz who pretended to know all the answers. We do not know all the answers; and it is imperative to remember that it is only the false teacher who pretends that he does.

The restlessness in Job’s heart as he sought to find a more perfect knowledge of God is a God-endowed element of human life. As Augustine stated it, “O God, our hearts were made for thee, and never shall they rest until they rest in Thee.”

That intense and perpetual yearning of the human heart after God is most beautifully expressed in these nine verses.

Barnes' Notes on the Whole Bible

Oh that I knew where I might find him! - Where I might find “God.” He had often expressed a wish to bring his cause directly before God, and to be permitted to plead his cause there; see Job 13:3, note; Job 13:20, notes. But this he had not yet been able to do. The argument had been with his three friends, and he saw that there was no use in attempting further to convince them. If he could get the cause before God, and be allowed go plead it there, he felt assured that justice would be done him. But he had not been able to do this. God had not come forth in any visible and public manner as he wished, so that the cause could be fairly tried before such a tribunal, and he was in darkness. The “language” used here will express the condition of a pious man in the times of spiritual darkness. Hc cannot find God. He has no near access as he once had to him. In such a state he anxiously seeks to find God, but he cannot. There is no light and no comfort to his soul. This language may further describe the state of one who is conscious of uprightness, and who is exposed to the suspicion or the unkind remarks of the world. His character is attacked; his motives are impugned; his designs are suspected, and no one is disposed to do him justice. In such a state, he feels that “God” alone will do him justice. “He” knows the sincerity of his heart, and he can safely commit his cause to him. It is always the privilege of the calumniated and the slandered to make an appeal to the divine tribunal, and to feel that whatever injustice our fellow-men may be disposed to do us, there is One who will never do a wrong.

That I might come even to his seat - To his throne, or tribunal. Job wished to carry the cause directly before him. Probably he desired some manifestation of God - such as he was afterward favored with - when God would declare his judgment on the whole matter of the controversy.

Smith's Bible Commentary

Chapter 23

And so Job answers him and he says, Every day is my complaint bitter: my stroke is heavier than my groaning ( Job 23:1-2 ).

Really, what's happened to me is even worse than I'm complaining. I'm not even really complaining a full measure for what I'm really feeling.

But oh that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his throne! ( Job 23:3 )

You tell me to find God and be at peace, but if I only knew where I could find Him.

Deep within the heart of every man there is a desire for God. There is a search for God. There is a quest for God. Dr. Henry Drummond in his book, Natural and Supernatural, said, "There is a within the very protoplasm of man those little tentacles that are reaching up for Father God."

"Oh, that I knew where I might find Him" is the cry on so many hearts. People who are seeking and searching for God. But so many times in our search for God, we're searching in the wrong places. Even as Job here in verse Job 23:8-9 says,

I go before me, I go forward, he's not there; backward, I cannot perceive him: On the left hand, where he's working, I cannot behold him: he hides himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him ( Job 23:8-9 ):

"Oh, that I wish I could find God." He says in verse Job 23:6 , "He wouldn't plead against me like you guys are. He would help me; He would strengthen me if I could just find him, I know that. But I look all around, I go forward, I go backward, go to the right and the left. I know He's there but I can't see Him. I can't see Him. I don't behold Him. I can't find God."

He's looking in the material things. Seeking to find God in a material form. You will never discover God or find God in the material forms. "God is a Spirit. They that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth" ( John 4:24 ). And God is seeking such to worship Him.

Eliphaz earlier had said to Job, "Who by searching can find out God to perfection?" ( Job 11:7 ) You can't. God does not exist at the end of an intellectual quest. It is interesting that so many people seek to apprehend God intellectually and it becomes a real stumbling block. But if you had to be some intellectual genius in order to find God, look at how many of us poor people would be eliminated. But because God loves all men, even a child can discover Him. While these brilliant professors and intellects go on saying, "Well, I'm an agnostic," a little child walks in the consciousness of God, singing of Him, talking of Him. "And out of the mouth of babes and sucklings God has perfected praise" ( Matthew 21:16 ) "As Jesus took a child and set him in the midst of them and said, 'Unless you become as a little child, you can't enter the kingdom of heaven'" ( Matthew 18:2-3 ). You see, that's a put down to our intellects. We like to think that through our intellect we can solve all problems; we can't. The enigma of God can never be solved through the intellect of man. God is discovered in the heart of a child, in the area of faith, but it's spiritual dimension. You've got to leave the material and take the step of faith into the spiritual dimension to really apprehend God. And in the understanding of God, your intellect has very little value, because God wants all men to understand Him. So He puts it down to our level where we can understand and know Him and walk with Him. How beautiful it is. So Job's cry, "Oh, that I knew where I might find Him, but I look all around." Job, look up. Look up.

Why is it that we're always looking around for God rather than looking up for God? It's because man has always sought to bring God down to his own level. They call, or they have what they call the anthropomorphic concept of God. That is, viewing God as a man. And this is extremely common because most of the time a man's god is really a projection of himself.

Now you didn't know that you are as much in love with yourself as you really are. You hear a person say, "Oh, I hate myself." That's never true. They're just trying to draw attention to themselves. "I'm so terrible. I'm so awful." They just want you to say, "Oh, no you're not. You're wonderful." But we are very, very much in love with ourselves. You've heard the saying that the longer people live together, the more they look alike. You know what the psychologist's answer to that is? Actually, you're so much in love with yourself that when you are picking a mate that you usually find someone who looks like you and you marry them. And that's why the saying, "Oh, they've been living together so long, they even look alike." Well, you know, you just had foresight back a ways and you picked someone that looked like you.

If we would take a wide-angle photo of the congregation here tonight as you're sitting here and we'd have the thing blown up and put on the screen up here, who's the first one you would look for? Now, man then projects himself to immensity. "This is what I would be if I were God. This is what I would do if I were God. This is where I would live if I were God. This is how I would respond if I were God." And so his god becomes a projection of himself. He projects himself to sort of immensity and then he worships that. A projection of himself.

I oftentimes have people say, "I don't know why God allowed this to happen to me." What they are saying is, "If I were God, I surely wouldn't have made this mistake. If I were running things, I could have done it much wiser than that. I would have had a better plan. If only I were governing the universe, what a different world this would be." Well, that has to be the height of something.

"Oh, that I knew where I might find Him." Not in the intellect, not through the intellectual quest, not through the enlargement of yourself. God is found in Jesus Christ. "He that hath seen Me," Jesus said, "hath seen the Father" ( John 14:9 ). "I am the way, the truth and the life, no man comes to the Father but by Me" ( John 14:6 ). "Oh that I knew where I might find Him." Jesus said, "Come unto Me." And those who do have found God. From the little children to the college professor, we all have to come the same way. Setting aside our own intellectual genius and kneeling at the cross and saying, "Oh Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner." And I find God.

Now Job, after speaking, "I cannot find Him." Here Job is capable of coming out with those classic statements. In the midst of his depression and agony and all, he just comes out with these jewels and then he jumps right back into the pit. It's like he comes out on the mountain for a moment and just bursts forth in glory and then jumps right back down in the hole. And so all of a sudden he comes out of the mountain and he said,

But he knoweth the way that I take ( Job 23:10 ):

I can't find Him, I can't see Him, but He knows the way that I take.

and when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold ( Job 23:10 ).

Deep down underneath there is a strong faith that is keeping this man. Now he's having great difficulties because he can't understand his problem, but down underneath the faith is routed. The guy is unshakable, because down deep, deep, deep inside there are certain basic things: I know that God knows the way that I take, and when He has tried me I am going to come forth like gold. God has a purpose. I'm going to come out of it. I'm going to come out of it purified.

Perhaps Peter was thinking of Job when he wrote, "Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trials which are to try you as though some strange thing has happened unto you" ( 1 Peter 4:12 ). Knowing that the trial of your faith is more precious than gold though it perisheth when it is tried in the fire" ( 1 Peter 1:7 ). Peter speaks of the refining process of God whereby the impurities are removed. And so Job is looking at all of this as really just a work of the removal of the impurities and, "When I come forth, I'm going to be like gold. I'm going to be refined by this process of God in my life."

My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and have not declined. Neither have I gone back from the commandment of his lips; I have esteemed the words of his mouth more than my necessary food ( Job 23:11-12 ).

Now this is interesting because it indicates that, number one, way back at this time there was the written Word of God. Even in the time of Job who was perhaps a contemporary to Moses or lived earlier maybe. But even at that time, they had words that were esteemed to be the Word of God. "I esteemed His Word more than my necessary food."

How much value do you put on the Word of God? You see, there is the natural man, there is the spiritual man. Those that are born again are both, and that's where the rub comes in. The spirit is lusting against the flesh, the flesh against the spirit; these two are contrary. A warfare going on. Now, I see to it that my natural man is fed regularly and fed well. Now, I will admit that I do put some junk in him, but basically I seek to watch my diet. And that is not diet in the sense...that is, the food that I eat. I don't limit it, but I just watch. I like the whole grain breads. I like a balanced meal, things of this nature. I want to make sure that I put the proper fuel in this system so that it'll keep running well.

Now, though I am extremely careful of how I feed my natural man, it's amazing how careless I am in feeding the spiritual man. And it's amazing how much junk food people cram down the spiritual man. Diets that really cannot be healthy, but bring spiritual anemia. But not Job. He said, "I consider Thy Word more than my necessary food." It's more important for me to feed on the Word of God than it is to feed on steak and potatoes. It would be important if each of us had that same attitude towards the spiritual food in the spiritual man, that we would be interested in feeding the spiritual man. Now there is only one thing that really feeds the spiritual man, and that is this Word of God. This is food to the spiritual man. You need to feed on it. And Job said, "I've esteemed Your Word more than my necessary food." But now he jumps back down into his despair.

But he is in one mind, who can turn him? what his soul desires, that he does. For he performs the thing that is appointed for me: and many such things are with him. Therefore am I troubled at his presence: when I consider these things, I am afraid of him. For God has made my heart soft, and the Almighty troubles me: Because I was not cut off before the darkness, neither hath he covered the darkness from my face ( Job 23:13-17 ). "

Dr. Constable's Expository Notes

Job’s longing 23:1-7

Job admitted that he had rebelled against God to the extent that he had complained about his condition (Job 23:2 a). "His hand" (Job 23:2 b) is "My hand" in the Hebrew text. Job had not given up his desire to present his case before God before he died (cf. Job 9:14-16).

"It is obvious that Job rests his hope for a favorable decision on the Judge’s just character." [Note: Hartley, p. 339.]

Gill's Exposition of the Whole Bible

O that I knew where I might find him,.... That is, God, who is understood, though not expressed, a relative without an antecedent, as in Psalms 87:1; Jarchi supplies, and interprets it, "my Judge", from Job 23:7; and certain it is Job did desire to find God as a judge sitting on his throne, doing right, that he might have justice done to him: indeed he might be under the hidings of God's face, which added to his affliction, and made it the heavier; in which case, the people of God are at a loss to know where he is, and "how" to find him, as Mr. Broughton renders the words here; they know that he is everywhere, and fills heaven and earth with his presence; that their God is in the heavens, his throne is there, yea, the heaven is his throne; that he is in his church, and among his people, where they are gathered together in his name, to wait upon him, and to worship him; and that he is to be found in Christ, as a God gracious and merciful; all which Job knew, but might, as they in such circumstances are, be at a loss how to come at sensible communion with him; for, when he hides his face, who can behold him? yet they cannot content themselves without seeking after him, and making use of all means of finding him, as Job did, Job 23:8; see Song of Solomon 3:1;

[that] I might come [even] to his seat; either his mercy seat, from whence he communes with his people, the throne of his grace, where he sits as the God of grace, dispensing his grace to his people, to help them in time of need; the way to which is Christ, and in which all believers may come to it with boldness, in his name, through his blood, righteousness, and sacrifice; they may come up even to it, in the exercise of faith and hope, though the distance is great, as between heaven and earth, yet by faith they can come into the holiest of all, and by hope enter within the vail; and though the difficulties and discouragements are many, arising from their sins and transgressions: or else his judgment seat, at which no man can appear and stand, without a righteousness, or without a better than his own, by which none can be justified in the sight of God; who, if strict to mark iniquity, the best of men cannot stand before him, at his bar of justice; indeed, in the righteousness of Christ, a believer may come up to the judgment seat of God, and to him as Judge of all, and not be afraid, but stand before him with confidence, since that is sufficient to answer for him, and fully acquit him: but Job here seems to have a peculiar respect to his case, in controversy between him and his friends, and is so fully assured of the justness of his cause, and relying on his innocence, he wishes for nothing more than that he could find God sitting on a throne of justice, before whom his cause might be brought and heard, not doubting in the least but that he should be acquitted; so far was he from hiding himself from God, or pleasing himself with the thoughts that God was in the height of heaven, and knew nothing of him and his conduct, and could not judge through the dark clouds, which were a covering to him, that he could not see him; that he was not afraid to appear before him, and come up even to his seat, if he knew but where and how he could; see Job 22:12.

Henry's Complete Commentary on the Bible

      1 Then Job answered and said,   2 Even to day is my complaint bitter: my stroke is heavier than my groaning.   3 Oh that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat!   4 I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments.   5 I would know the words which he would answer me, and understand what he would say unto me.   6 Will he plead against me with his great power? No; but he would put strength in me.   7 There the righteous might dispute with him; so should I be delivered for ever from my judge.

      Job is confident that he has wrong done him by his friends, and therefore, ill as he is, he will not give up the cause, nor let them have the last word. Here,

      I. He justifies his own resentments of his trouble (Job 23:2; Job 23:2): Even to day, I own, my complaint is bitter; for the affliction, the cause of the complaint, is so. There are wormwood and gall in the affliction and misery; my soul has them still in remembrance and is embittered by them, Lamentations 3:19; Lamentations 3:20. Even to day is my complaint counted rebellion (so some read it); his friends construed the innocent expressions of his grief into reflections upon God and his providence, and called them rebellion. "But," says he, "I do not complain more than there is cause; for my stroke is heavier than my groaning. Even today, after all you have said to convince and comfort me, still the pains of my body and the wounds of my spirit are such that I have reason enough for my complaints, if they were more bitter than they are." We wrong God if our groaning be heavier than our stroke, like froward children, who, when they cry for nothing, have justly something given them to cry for; but we do not wrong ourselves though our stroke be heavier than our groaning, for little said is soon amended.

      II. He appeals from the censures of his friends to the just judgment of God; and this he thought was an evidence for him that he was not a hypocrite, for then he durst not have made such an appeal as this. St Paul comforted himself in this, that he that judged him was the Lord, and therefore he valued not man's judgment (1 Corinthians 4:3; 1 Corinthians 4:4), but he was willing to wait till the appointed day of decision came; whereas Job is impatient, and passionately wishes to have the judgment-day anticipated, and to have his cause tried quickly, as it were, by a special commission. The apostle found it necessary to press it much upon suffering Christians patiently to expect the Judge's coming, James 5:7-9.

      1. He is so sure of the equity of God's tribunal that he longs to appear before it (Job 23:3; Job 23:3): O that I knew where I might find him! This may properly express the pious breathings of a soul convinced that it has by sin lost God and is undone for ever if it recover not its interest in his favour. "O that I knew how I might recover his favour! How I might come into his covenant and communion with him!" Micah 6:6; Micah 6:7. It is the cry of a poor deserted soul. "Saw you him whom my soul loveth? O that I knew where I might find him! O that he who has laid open the way to himself would direct me into it and lead me in it!" But Job here seems to complain too boldly that his friends wronged him and he knew not which way to apply himself to God to have justice done him, else he would go even to his seat, to demand it. A patient waiting for death and judgment is our wisdom and duty, and, if we duly consider things, that cannot be without a holy fear and trembling; but a passionate wishing for death or judgment, without any such fear and trembling, is our sin and folly, and ill becomes us. Do we know what death and judgment are, and are we so very ready for them, that we need not time to get readier? Woe to those that thus, in a heat, desire the day of the Lord,Amos 5:18.

      2. He is so sure of the goodness of his own cause that he longs to be opening it at God's bar (Job 23:4; Job 23:4): "I would order my cause before him, and set it in a true light. I would produce the evidences of my sincerity in a proper method, and would fill my mouth with arguments to prove it." We may apply this to the duty of prayer, in which we have boldness to enter into the holiest and to come even to the footstool of the throne of grace. We have not only liberty of access, but liberty of speech. We have leave, (1.) To be particular in our requests, to order our cause before God, to speak the whole matter, to lay before him all our grievances, in what method we think most proper; we durst not be so free with earthly princes as a humble holy soul may be with God. (2.) To be importunate in our requests. We are allowed, not only to pray, but to plead, not only to ask, but to argue; nay, to fill our mouths with arguments, not to move God (he is perfectly apprized of the merits of the cause without our showing), but to move ourselves, to excite our fervency and encourage our faith in prayer.

      3. He is so sure of a sentence in favour of him that he even longed to hear it (Job 23:5; Job 23:5): "I would know the words which he would answer me," that is, "I would gladly hear what God will say to this matter in dispute between you and me, and will entirely acquiesce in his judgment." This becomes us, in all controversies; let the word of God determine them; let us know what he answers, and understand what he says. Job knew well enough what his friends would answer him; they would condemn him, and run him down. "But" (says he) "I would fain know what God would answer me; for I am sure his judgment is according to truth, which theirs is not. I cannot understand them; they talk so little to the purpose. But what he says I should understand and therefore be fully satisfied in."

      III. He comforts himself with the hope that God would deal favourably with him in this matter, Job 23:6; Job 23:7. Note, It is of great use to us, in every thing wherein we have to do with God, to keep up good thoughts of him. He believes, 1. That God would not overpower him, that he would not deal with him either by absolute sovereignty or in strict justice, not with a high hand, nor with a strong hand: Will he plead against me with his great power? No. Job's friends pleaded against him with all the power they had; but will God do so? No; his power is all just and holy, whatever men's is. Against those that are obstinate in their unbelief and impenitency God will plead with his great power; their destruction will come from the glory of his power. But with his own people, that love him and trust in him, he will deal in tender compassion. 2. That, on the contrary, he would empower him to plead his own cause before God: "He would put strength in me, to support me and bear me up, in maintaining my integrity." Note, The same power that is engaged against proud sinners is engaged for humble saints, who prevail with God by strength derived from him, as Jacob did, Hosea 12:3. See Psalms 68:35. 3. That the issue would certainly be comfortable, Job 23:7; Job 23:7. There, in the court of heaven, when the final sentence is to be given, the righteous might dispute with him and come off in his righteousness. Now, even the upright are often chastened of the Lord, and they cannot dispute against it; integrity itself is no fence either against calamity or calumny; but in that day they shall not be condemned with the world, though God may afflict by prerogative. Then you shall discern between the righteous and the wicked (Malachi 3:18), so vast will be the difference between them in their everlasting state; whereas now we can scarcely distinguish them, so little is the difference between them as to their outward condition, for all things come alike to all. Then, when the final doom is given, "I shall be delivered for ever from my Judge," that is, "I shall be saved from the unjust censures of my friends and from that divine sentence which is now so much a terror to me." Those that are delivered up to God as their owner and ruler shall be for ever delivered from him as their judge and avenger; and there is no flying from his justice but by flying to his mercy.

Spurgeon's Verse Expositions of the Bible

Three Sermons

Jesus Desired

by

Charles H. Spurgeon

(1834-1892)

This updated and revised manuscript is copyrighted ã 1999 by Tony Capoccia. All rights reserved.

For awhile the woundings of Jesus are given in the dark, and we do not recognise the hand which strikes us; but it is not always to be so. In-cessant disappointments causes us to lose heart with the former refuges of our souls, and renewed discoveries make us sadly aware of the super-lative evil dwelling in our flesh; thus stripped of all outer covering, and trembling at our own shameful impotence, we hail with gladness the news of a Saviour for sinners. Like being on the frail raft, the almost skeleton mariners, having long ago devoured their last morsel, raise them-selves with all their remaining strength to catch a glimpse of a passing sail [another ship], if by chance it may bring relief, so does the dying sinner receive with eagerness the message of coming grace. He might have scorned the terms of mercy once, but, like a city that has been under a siege for a long time, he is now very happy to receive peace at any price. The grace which in his high estate he counted as a worthless thing, is now the great object of all of his desires. He pants to see the Man who is ‘mighty to save,’ and would count it honour to kiss his feet or loosen his sandals. No quibbling at sovereignty, no mur-muring at self‑humiliation, no scorning the unpurchasable gifts of discriminating love; the man is too poor to be proud, too sick to struggle with his physician, too much afraid of death to refuse the king's pardon because it puts him under obligation. We will be happy if we understand this position of utter helplessness into which we must all be brought if we would know Christ!

It is one of the strange things in the dealings of Jesus, that even when we arrive at this state of entire spiritual destitution, we do not always become at once the objects of his justifying grace. Long seasons frequently intervene between our knowledge of our ruin, our hearing of a deliverer, and the application of that deliverer's hand. The Lord's own called ones frequently turn their eyes to the hills, and find no help coming from there; yes, they wish to look unto him, but they are so blinded that they cannot discern him as their hope and consolation. This is not, as some would rashly conclude, because he is not the Saviour for people like them. Far be from that. Unbelief cries out, ‘Ah! my vileness disqualifies me for Christ, and my exceeding sinfulness shuts out his love!’ How disgustingly does unbelief lie when it has just slandered the tender heart of Jesus! How inhumanly cruel it is when it thus takes the cup of salvation from the only lips which have a right to drink of it!

We have noticed in the preaching of the present day too much of a saint's gospel, and too little of a sinner's gospel. Honesty, morality, and goodness, are commended not so much as the marks of godliness, as the life of it; and men are told that as they sow, so shall they reap, without the absolutely necessary caveat that salvation is not of man, neither by man, and that grace comes not to him that works, but to him that believes on Him that justifies the ungodly. Our ancient preachers did not speak this way, for in all its fulness they declared

‘Not the righteous, not the righteous

Sinners, Jesus came to save.’

The words of a much maligned preacher are just as bold and true:

‘There is nothing in men, though ever so vile, that can bar a person from a part in Christ. Some will not have Christ, except they can pay for him; others dare not meddle with Christ, because they are such vile and wretched creatures, that they think it impossible that Christ should belong to such wretched persons as they are. You do not know (says one) what an abominable sinner I am; you look upon others, and their sins are but ordinary, but mine are of a deep dye, and I shall die in them: the rebellion of my heart is another kind of re-bellion than is in others. Beloved, let me tell you freely from the Lord, let men deem you as they will, and esteem yourself as bad as you can, I tell you from the Lord, and I will make it good, there is not a sinfulness that can be imagined in a creature that can be able to sepa-rate or bar any of you from a part in Christ; even though you are that sinful, Christ may be your Christ.’

‘No, I go further; suppose one person in this congregation should not only be the vilest sinner in the world, but should have all the sins of others, besides what he himself has committed; if all these were laid upon the back of him, he would be a greater sinner than he is now; yet, if he should bear all the sins of others, as I said, there is no bar to this person, but Christ may be his portion. “He bore the sins of many” (says the text), but he bore them not as his own, he bore them for many. Suppose the many, that are sinners, should have all their sins translated to one in particular, still there is no more sin than Christ died for, though they all be collected together. If other men's sins were transferred to you, and they had none, then they needed no Christ; all the need they had of Christ was transferred to you, and then the whole of Christ’s obedience would be yours. Do but observe the strain of the Gospel, you shall find that no sin in the world can be a barricade to hinder a person from having a part in Christ; look upon the condition of persons (as they are revealed in the Gospel) to whom Christ has reached out to; and the consideration of their persons will plainly show to you that there is no kind of sinfulness that can bar a person from having a part in Christ. Consider Christ's own expression, “I came to seek and to save that which was lost; I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance; those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick;” here still the persons are considered in the worst con-dition (as some might think) rather than in the best. Our Saviour is pleased to express himself in a direct way contrary to the opinion of men. “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners;” the poor tax collector that had nothing to plead for himself went away more justified than the proud Pharisee, who pleaded with God, “I thank you that I am not like other men.”’

‘Men think righteousness brings them near to Christ; beloved, our righteousness is that which drives a man away from Christ; do not stumble at the expression, it is the clear truth of the Gospel; not simply does the doing of service and duty drive men away from Christ; but the doing of duty and service to expect acceptance with Christ or participation in Christ this kind of righteousness is the only separation between Christ and a people; and whereas no sinfulness in the world can exclude a people, their righteous-ness may exclude them’ [Crisp].

Possibly some may object to such terms as these as being too strong and unguarded, but a full consideration of them will show that they are such that would naturally flow from the lips of a Luther when he repeated over and over that faith alone was the means of our salvation, and are fully borne out by the strong expressions of Paul when writing to the Romans and Galatians. The fact is, that very strong terms are necessary to make men see the whole of this truth, for it is one which of all things the mind can least receive.

If it were possible to make men clearly understand that justification is not in the least degree by their own works, how easy would it be to comfort them! but herein lies the greatest of all difficulties. Man refuse to be taught that -his goodness provides no increase to God's wealth, and his sin no decrease of divine riches; he will forever be imagining that some little presents must be offered, and that mercy can never be the gratuitous bounty of Heaven. Even the miserable creature who has learned his own bankruptcy and extreme poverty, while assured that he cannot bring anything, yet trembles to come naked and as he is. He knows he cannot do anything, but he can scarcely believe the promise which seems too good to be true ‘I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely: for my anger has turned away from him’ [Hosea 14:4 ]. Yes, when he cannot deny the evidence of his own eyes, because the kind word stares him in the face he will turn away from its glories under the sad supposition that they are intended for all men except himself. The air, the stream, the fruit, the joys and luxuries of life, he takes freely, nor ever asks whether these were not intended for a special people; but at the upper springs he stands afraid to dip his pitcher, lest the flowing flood should refuse to enter it because the vessel was too earthy to be fit to contain such pure and precious water: conscious that in Christ is all his help, it yet appears too great a presumption even to touch the hem of the Saviour's garment. Nor is it easy to persuade the mourning penitent that sin is no barrier to grace, but that ‘where sin abounded, grace abounded much more;’ and only the spirit of God can make the man who knows himself as nothing at all, receive Jesus as his all in all. When the Lord has set his heart on a man, it is not a great difficulty that will move him from his purpose of salvation, and therefore ‘he devises means, so that His banished ones are not expelled from him’ [2 Samuel 14:14 ]. By the divine instruction of the Holy Spirit, the sinner is taught that Jesus is the sinner's friend, adapted to his case, and ‘able to save to the uttermost.’ Even then, too often, the work is not complete; for the soul now labours to find him whom it needs, and it often happens that the search is prolonged through months of weariness and days of languishing. If the Church, in the Song of Solomon, confesses, ‘By night on my bed I sought the one I love; I sought him, but I did not find him. I will rise now, and go about the city; in the streets and in the squares I will seek the one I love. I sought him, but I did not find him’ [Song of Song of Solomon 3:1 , Song of Solomon 3:2 ] surely, even if our reader's history does not confirm the fact that grace is sometimes hidden, he will at least assent to the probability of it, and pray for the many who are crying, ‘Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!’

May Jesus smile on our humble endeavour to trace the steps of our own soul, so that any who are in this miserable condition may escape by the same means! O you prisoners of hope, who are seeking a Redeemer who apparently eludes your grasp, let your earnest prayer accompany your reading, while you fervently cry

Saviour, cast a pitying eye,

Bid my sins and sorrows end:

Where should a sinner fly?

Are you not the sinner's friend?

Rest in you I gasp to find,

Wretched I, and poor, and blind.

‘Did you ever see a soul

More in need of help than mine?

Then refuse to make me whole;

Then withhold the balm divine:

But if I do want thee most,

Come, and seek, and save the lost.

‘Haste, oh haste to my relief;

From the iron furnace take;

Rid me of my sin and grief,

For your love and mercy's sake;

Set my heart at liberty,

Show forth all thy power in me.

‘Me, the vilest of the race,

Most unholy, most unclean;

Me, the farthest from thy face,

Full of misery and sin;

Me with arms of love receive;

Me, of sinners chief forgive ’ [C. Wesley]

We propose

I. To mark the hopeful signs connected with this state of heart;

I. It is our pleasant duty to note the hopeful signs which gladden us when reviewing this state.

1. We are encouraged by observing that the longing of the spirit is now entirely after Jesus

-

‘Oh, that I knew where I might find Him !’ Once, like the many whom David mentions, the question was, ‘Who will show us any good?’ A question indiscriminately addressed to any and all within hearing, eagerly demanding any good in all the world. But now the desires have found a channel, they are no longer like the widespread sheet of water covering with shallow depth a tract of marsh teeming with malaria and pestilence, but having found a channel, they rush forward in one deep and rapid stream, seeking the broad ocean, where sister streams have long since mingled their floods.

For most men the complaint is true, that they will ‘search and track the stars’ with the ‘quick, piercing eye’ of the astronomer, or ‘cut through the strong wave’ to win the pearl, or wear themselves out in smoky toil, while they separate and strip the creature naked, till they find the raw principles within their nests; in fine, will do anything and everything of inferior importance, but here are so negligent that it is truly asked,

What has man not sought out and found

But his dear God?" [Herbert]

When the heart can express itself in the words of our text, it is quite different, for to it every other subject is trivial, and every other object vain. Then, too, there was the continual prayer after pardon, conversion, washing, in-struction, justification, adoption, and all other spiritual blessings; but now the soul discerns all mercies bound up in one bundle in Jesus, and it asks no more for the incenses of cassia, aloes, and camphire, but asks for Him who has the savour of all good ointments. It is no small mark of grace when we can esteem Jesus to be all we want. He who believes there is gold in the mine, and desires to obtain it, will not waste time before he has it; and he who knows Jesus to be full of hidden treasures of mercy, and seeks him dili-gently, shall not be too long detained from a possession of him. We have never known a sinner anxious for Jesus for Jesus only who did not in due time discover Jesus as his friend, ‘waiting to be gracious.’

Our own experience reminds us of the period when we panted for the Lord, even for Him, our only want. Vain to us were the mere ordinances vain as bottles scorched by the simoom [a strong, hot, sand-laden wind of the Sahara and Arabian deserts], and drained of their waters. Vain were ceremonies vain as empty wells to the thirsty Arab. Vain were the delights of the flesh -bitter as the waters of Marah [Exodus 15:23 ], which even the parched lips of Israel refused to drink. Vain were the directions of the legalist preacher‑-useless as the howling of the wind to the wanderer overtaken by darkness. Vain, worse than vain, were our

refuges of lies, which fell about our ears like Dagon's temple on the heads of the worshippers. We only had one hope, one sole refuge for our misery. Except where that ark floated, north, south, east, and west, were one broad expanse of troubled waters; excpet where that star burned, the sky was one vast field of unmitigated dark-ness. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! he alone, he without another, had become the solitary hiding place against the storm. As the wounded, lying on the battlefield, with wounds which, like fires, consume his moisture, utters only one monotonous cry of insistent demand, ‘Water, water, water!’ likewise, we perpetually send our prayer to heaven, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me! 0 Jesus, come to me!’

‘Gracious Lord! incline your ear, My requests consent to hear;

Hear my never ceasing cry -

Give me Christ, or else I die.

‘Wealth and honour I disdain,

Earthly comforts, Lord, are vain;

These can never satisfy,

Give me Christ, or else I die.

‘Lord, deny me what you wilt,

Only ease me of my guilt;

Suppliant at your feet I lie,

Give me Christ, or else I die.

‘All unholy and unclean,

I am nothing else but sin;

On your mercy I rely,

Give me Christ, or else I die.

‘You do freely save the lost,

In your grace alone I trust;

With my earnest suit comply,

Give me Christ, or else I die.

‘You do promise to forgive,

All who in Your Son believe;

Lord, I know you cannot lie,

Give me Christ, or else 1 die.

‘Father, does your justice frown?

Let me shelter in your Son!

Jesus, to your arms I fly,

Come and save me, or I die.’

As he that tantalises thirst with painted rivers as he that embitters hunger’s pangs by the offering of pictured fruits, so were they who spoke of anything else except Christ and him crucified. Our heart ached with a void the whole earth could not fill; it heaved with a desire as irresistible as the mountain torrent, and as little able to be restrained as the volcano when swelling with its fiery lava. Every power, every passion, every wish, moved onward in one direction. Like an army pressing upwards through a breach, did our united powers rush forward to enter the city of salvation by one door that door Jesus the Lord. Our soul could spare no portion of itself for others; it pressed all of its strength into service to win Christ, and to be found in him. And oh! how glorious did Jesus then seem! what would we not have given to have had the scantiest morsel of his grace? ‘A kingdom for a horse!’ cried the routed monarch. ‘A kingdom for a look a world for a smile our whole selves for one kind word!’ was then our far wiser prayer. Oh what crushing we would have endured, if in the crowd we could have approached his person! what trampling would we have borne, if our finger might have touched the lowest hem of his garments! Bear us wit-ness, you hours of ardent desire, what horrors we would have braved, what dangers we would have encountered, what tortures we would have suffered, for one brief glimpse of Him whom our souls desired to know! We could have trodden the burning marl [a crumbly mixture of clays] of hell at his bidding, if his face had but been in view; and as for Peter's march upon the deep, we would have waded to our very necks without a fear, if it were but with half a hope of a welcome from the Lord the other side. He had no robbers then to share his throne, no golden calf to pro-voke him to jealousy. He was the monarch reigning without a rival. Then, no part of our heart was shut up from him; he was welcomed in every chamber of our being. There was not a tablet of the heart which was not engraven with his name, nor a string of our harp which did not vibrate with his praise, nor an atom of our frame which would not have leaped for joy at the distant sound of his footsteps. Such a condition of longing alone for Jesus is so healthy, that many advanced believers would nearly be content to retrace their steps, if they might once more be fully occupied with that desire to the exclusion of every other.

If my reader is fully resolved to satisfy his hunger only with the manna which comes down from heaven if he is determined to stake his thirst at no stream except that which gushes from the Rock if he will accept no drink of comfort except that which is mixed with the herbs of Gethsemane it is, it must be, well with him. If no one but Jesus is your delight, take heart. Augustine threw away Tully's works because there was no Christ in them; if you, like him, do renounce all but Christ, Christ will never renounce you.

2. Another, pleasing feature of this case is, the intense sincerity and ardent earnestness of the soul.

Here is an ‘Oh !’ a deep, impassioned, burning exclamation of desire. It is no fanciful wish, which a little difficulty will pre-sently overcome it is no sparkle of ex-citement, which time will remove; but it is a real want, fixed in the core of the heart so firmly, that nothing but a supply of the need can silence the persistent petition. It is not the passing sigh, which the half‑awakened heave as a compliment to an eloquent discourse or a stirring article it is not the transient wish of the awestruck spectator who has seen a sudden death or a notable judgment it is not even the longing of a soul in love for a time with the moral excellences of Christ; but it is the prayer of one who must pray, and who cannot, who dare not, rest satisfied until he finds Jesus who can no more restrain his groaning than the light clouds can refuse to fly before the violence of the wind.

We have, we hope, many times enjoyed nearness to the throne of grace in prayer; but perhaps never did such a prayer escape our lips as that which we offered in the bitterness of our spirit when seeking the Saviour. We have often poured out our hearts with greater freedom, with more delight, with stronger faith, with more eloquent language; but never, never have we cried with more vehemence of unquenchable desire, or more burning heat of insatiable longing. There was then no sleepiness or sluggishness in our devotion; we did not then need the whip of command to drive us to the labours of prayer; but our soul could not be content unless with sighs and lamentations with strong crying and tears it gave vent to our bursting hearts. Then we had no need to be dragged to out closets like oxen to the slaughter, but we flew to them like doves to their windows; and when there we needed no pumping up of desires, but they gushed forth like a fountain of waters, although at times we felt we could scarcely find them a channel.

Mr. Philpot justly observes, ‘When the Lord is graciously pleased to enable the soul to pour out its desires, and to offer up its fervent breathings at his feet, and to give them out as He gives them in, then to call upon the Lord is no point of duty, which is to be attended to as a duty; it is no point of legal constraint, which must be done because the Word of God speaks of it; but it is a feeling, an experience, and inward work, which springs from the Lord's hand, and which flows in the Lord's own divine channel. Thus when the Lord is pleased to pour out this ‘Spirit of grace and of suppli-cation,’ we must pray; but we do not pray because we must; we pray because we have no better occupation, we have no more earnest desire, we have no more powerful feeling, and we have no more invincible and irresistible con-straint. The living child of God groans and sighs, because it is the expression of his wants -because it is a language which pours forth the feelings of his heart because groans and sighs are pressed out of him by the heavy weight upon him. A man lying in the street with a heavy weight on him will call for help; he does not say, ‘It is my duty to cry to the passers‑by for help;’ he cries for help because he wants to be delivered. A man with a broken leg does not say, ‘It is my duty to send for a surgeon;’ he wants him to set the limb. And a man with a raging disease does not say, ‘It is my duty to send for a Physician;’ he wants him to heal his disease . So when God the Holy Spirit works in a child of God, he prays, not out of a sense of duty, but from a burdened heart; he prays, because he cannot but pray; he groans, because he cannot but groan; he sighs, because he must sigh, having an inward weight, an inward burden, an inward experience, in which, and out of which, he is compelled to call upon the Lord.’ [Sermon on Prayer and its Answer].

The supplication of the penitent is not a mechanical form of devotion, followed for the sake of merit; it is the natural consequence of the wounding of Jesus; and the one who offers it thinks nothing of merit in presenting it, any more than in breathing, or any other act which necessity prevents him from suspending. This ‘Oh!’ is one which will not rise once and then sink forever; it is not the explosion of a starry rocket, followed by darkness; but it will be an incessant exclamation of the inner man. For example, at some of our doors, every hour brings a letter, so also at the door of mercy, prayer will be heard at every hour from the sincere penitent; in fact, the soul will be full of prayer even when it is not actually praying itself even as a censer may be filled with incense when no fire is burning in it.

Prayer will become a state of the soul, perpetual and habitual, needing nothing but opportunity to develop itself in the outward act of petitioning at the feet of mercy. It is well when Mr. Desires‑awake is sent to court, for he will surely prevail. Violence takes the kingdom by force; hard knocks open mercy's door; swift running overtakes the pro-mise; hard wrestling wins the blessing.

When the child cries clearly, his lungs are sound; and when the seeker can with spontaneous earnestness plead for pardon, he is most surely not far from health. When the soil of our garden begins to rise, we know that the bulb will soon send forth its shoot; so also, when the heart breaks for the longing which it has for God's testimonies, we then perceive that Jesus will soon appear to gladden the spirit.

3. We rejoice to observe the sense of ignorance which the seeker here expresses-- ’Oh, that I knew where I might find him!’ Men are by nature very wise in matters of re-ligion, and in their own opinion they might easily be chosen for Doctors of Divinity without the slightest spiritual enlightenment. It is a re-markable fact that men who find every science in the world to be too much for them, even when they have only waded ankle-deep in the elements of [theology], can still assume to be masters of theology, and competent, yes, infallible judges in matters of religion. Nothing is more easy than to pretend to be a profound acquaint-ance with the religion of the cross, and even to maintain a reputation as a well taught and highly instructed disciple of the Lamb; and, at the same time, nothing is more rare than to be really taught by God, and illuminated by the Spirit; and yet without this the religion of Jesus can never be really understood. Natural men will array themselves in robes of learning, ascend the chair of profession, and from there teach to others doctrines with which they fancy themselves to be thoroughly conversant; and if a word were hinted of their deficiency in know-ledge, and their inherent inability to discern spiritual things, how wrathful would they be-come, how fiercely would they denounce the bigotry of such an assertion, and how furiously would they condemn the hypocrisy and fanaticism which they conceive to be the origin of so humiliating a doctrine!

To be as little children, and bend their necks to the yoke of Jesus, the Master, is quite out of the question with the men of this generation, who love to philosophise the Word, and give what they call ‘intellectual’ views of the Gospel. How little do they suspect that, pro-fessing themselves to be wise, they have become fools! How little do they imagine that their grand theories and learned essays are but methods of the madness of folly, and, like paint-ings on the windows of their understanding, assist to shut out the light of the Holy Spirit. Self‑conceit, in men who are destitute of heavenly light, unconsciously exercises itself on that very subject upon which their ignorance is of necessity the greatest. They will acknow-ledge that when they have studied astronomy, its magnificence is beyond them; they will not claim for themselves a lordship of the entire regions of any one kingdom of knowledge: but here, in theology, they feel themselves abun-dantly qualified, if they have some keenness in the original languages, and have visited the schools of the universities; where a man might, with as much justice, style himself pro-fessor of botany, because he knows the scientific names of the classes and orders, although he has never seen an actual flower arrangement for what can education teach of theology but names and theories? Only experience can bring the things themselves before our eyes, and only in the light of Jesus can we discern them. We are pleased, therefore, to discover in the utterance of the awakened soul a confession of ignorance. The man asks ‘Where can I find the Lord?’ He is no longer self--confident, but is willing to ask his way to heaven; he is prepared to go to the school of piety, and learn the alpha-bet of godliness. He may be distinguished for his learning, but now a little child may lead him; his titles, his gown, his diploma, his dignity, all these are laid aside, and he sits down at the feet of Jesus to begin again, or rather to commence learning what he never knew before.

Conviction of ignorance is the doorstep of the temple of wisdom. ‘It is said in the Creed that Christ descended into hell: d escendit ut ascendat He took his rising from the lowest place to ascend into the highest; and herein Christ reads a good lecture to us he teaches us that humility is the way to glory!’ [Ephr. Udall’s Sermons] Seneca remarked, ‘I suppose that many might have attained to wisdom, had they not thought that they had already attained it.’ [Seneca de Ira, lib. Iii. C. 36]

We must first be emptied of every particle of fleshly wisdom, before we can say that ‘Jesus became for us wisdom from God’ [1 Corinthians 1:30 ]. We must know our folly, and confess it, before we can be accepted as the disciples of Jesus. It is marvellous how soon he strips us of our grand apparel, and how easily our wisdom disappears like a bubble vanishing in air. We were never greater fools than when, in our own opinion, our wisdom was the greatest; but as soon as real wisdom came, right away our opinion of ourselves fell from the clouds to the bottom of the mountains. We were no divines or doctors when we were under the convincing hand of the Spirit; we were far more like babes because of our ignorance, and we felt ourselves to be nothing but beasts because of our folly [Psalms 73:22 ]. Like men lost in dark woods, we could not find our paths; the roads which were once apparent enough, were then hedged up with thorns; and the very entrance to the narrow way had to be pointed out by Evangelist [Bunyan’s Pilgrim from Pilgrim’s Progress ], and marked by a light. Nevertheless, blessed is he who desires to learn the fear of the Lord, for he shall find it to be the beginning of wisdom.

Nor, in the present case, has a sense of ignorance driven the man to pry into secrets too deep for human wisdom. He does not exclaim, ‘Oh that I knew the origin of sin, or how predestination joins with the freewill of man’ No; he seeks only this, ‘Oh, that I knew where I might find Him! Many are puzzling themselves about abstract questions while their eternal interests are in imminent peril; such men are like the man who counted the stars, but taking no heed to his feet, fell into a pit and perished. ‘We may sooner think to span the sun, or grasp a star, or see a gnat swallow a leviathan, than fully understand the debates of eternity . . . . . Too great a inquisitiveness beyond our line is as much a provoking arrogance as a blockish [unwise, stupid] negligence of what is revealed, is a slighting ingratitude’ [Charnock’s Divine Attributes]. The spirit that is made alive disdains to pluck the wild flowers of carnal knowledge; he is not ambitious to reach the tempting beauties blooming on the edge of the cliffs which skirt the sea of the unrevealed; but he anxiously looks around for the rose of Sharon, the lily of the valley. Therefore, he who studies only to know Christ, shall soon, by the assistance of the Holy Spirit, learn enough to spell out his own salvation.

4. An evidence of grace is presented to us by the absence of all choice as to where the Saviour is discovered.

‘Oh, that I knew where I might find him!’ Here is no stipulation; Jesus is wanted, and let him be wherever he may, the soul is prepared to go after him. We, when in this state of experience, knew little of sect or denomination. Before our conviction we could fight for names, like mercenaries for other men’s countries. The mottos of our party were higher in our esteem than the golden rules of Christianity; and we should not have been grieved at the destruction of every other division of religious professors, if our own might have been elevated on the ruins. Every rule and form, every custom and relic, we would have stained with our blood, if necessary, in order to preserve them; and mightily did we shout con-cerning our own Church, ‘Great is Diana of the Ephesians’ [Acts 19:28 ]. There was not a nail in the church door that we did not revere not a vestment which we did not admire; or, if we did not love pomp, then sim-plicities were magnified into our very household gods. We hated the doctrines, practices, and rituals of the Roman Catholic Church, but were essentially a Roman Catholic; for we could have joined His Unholiness [the Pope] in all his anathemas [formal curses, excommunications], if he would but have hurled them against those who differed from us . We too did, in our own fashion, curse by bell, book, and candle, all who were not of our faith and order; and could scarcely think it possible that many attained salvation beyond the light of our Church, or that Jesus condescend to give them so much as a transient visit.

How changed we were when, by Divine grace, the sectarianism of our ungodliness hid its head in shame! We then thought that we would go among Methodists, Baptists, Episco-palians, Independents, Presbyterians, or any-where, so that we could but find a Redeemer for our guilty souls. It is more than probable that we found it necessary to shift our quarters, and attend the very house which we recently detested, to bow with the people whom we once held in abhorrence. All the fancies of our former lives dissolved before the heat of our desire. The hunter loves the mountain which shades his valley more than all its giant brothers; but nevertheless, when in hot pursuit of the cha-mois [extremely agile goat], he leaped from crag to crag, and does not ask what the name of the rock is upon which the object of his chase has bounded; so the sinner, ardently following after the Saviour, will pursue him wherever he goes.

Nor at such seasons did we regard, the respectability of the denomination or the grandeur of the structure in which God was adored. The chapel in the dark alley, the despised and de-serted church, the disreputable schoolroom, were now no longer noticed with a sneer; but whether under the vaulted sky of heaven, the

cobwebbed roof of a barn, the dingy ceiling of a village station, or the magnificent roof of the temple of the great assembly, we only sought one thing, and when that one thing was found, then all places were equal. No praising of a church for its architectural beauty no despising of a meeting‑house for its native ugliness; both buildings were valued not by their shape but by their contents; and where Jesus was more easily to be found, there did we make our haunt. It is true our servants, our farmers, and our paupers, sat with us to hear the same word; but we did not observe the difference, though once perhaps we might have looked aghast if any but my lady in satin, or my lord in superfine broad cloth, had ventured into a pew within the range of our breath. To us the company did not matter, so long as the Master of the Feast would just reveal himself. The place might be unconsecrated, the minister unordained, the clerk uneducated, the sect despicable, and the service unpretending, but if Jesus just showed his face, then that was all we wished for. There is no authentic account of the dimensions, the fashion, or furniture, of the room in which Jesus suddenly appeared and pronounced his ‘peace be with you.’ Nor do we think that any one of the assembly even so much as thought about the layout of the room while their Lord was present. It is good when we are content to go wherever the Lamb leads us. Doubtless, the catacombs of Rome, the glens of Scotland, and the conventicles [A religious meeting place, especially a secret or illegal one] of England, have been frequented more by the King of kings than cathedrals or royal chapels: there-fore the godly are not concerned so much where they worship, looking only for His presence which makes a hovel glorious, and deplore His absence, which makes even a temple desolate. We would in our anxious mood have followed Jesus into the cave, the mountain, the ravine, or the catacomb, so that we might but have been within the circle of his influence.

Nor would we have blushed to have sought Jesus among his kinsfolk and acquaintances the sick, the poor, the uneducated, but yet sincere children of light. How we delighted to sit in that upper room where stars looked between the tiles, and hear the heavenly conversation which, from a dull platform surrounded by ragged hangings, a feeble saint of the Lord held with us! Like divers, we valued the pearl, even though the shell might be a broken one, nor did we care where we went to get it. When those creaking stairs trembled beneath our weight, when that bottomless chair afforded us uneasy rest, and when the heat and odorous fumes of that sickroom drove our companion away, did we not feel more than doubly repaid while that friend of Jesus told us of all his love, his faithfulness and grace? It is frequently the case that the most despised servants of the Lord are made the chosen instruments of comforting distressed souls, and building them up

in the faith.

The writer confesses his eternal obligations to an old cook, who was despised as an Antinomian [a person who denies the fixed meaning or universal applicability of moral law], but who in her kitchen taught him many of the deep things of God, and removed many a doubt from his youthful mind. Even eminent men have been indebted to humble individuals for their deliverance: take, for in-stance, Paul, and his comforter, Ananias; and in our own day, John Bunyan, instructed by the holy women at Bedford. True seekers will hunt everywhere for Jesus, and will not be too proud to learn from beggars or little children. We take gold from dark mines or muddy streams; therefore it would be foolish to refuse in-struction in salvation from the most unlettered or uncouth. Let us be truly sincere in seeking Christ, then circumstance and place will be lightly esteemed.

We also note that there is no condition for distance in this question, it is only ‘where;’ and though it be a thousand miles away, the man’s feet are ready for the journey. Desire leaps over space; leagues to it are inches, and oceans narrow into straits. Where, at one time, a mile would tire the body, a long journey after the Word is counted as nothing: yes, to stand in the house of God for hours during service is considered a pleasure and not a hardship. The devoted Hindu, to find a hope-less salvation, will roll himself along for hundred of miles: it seems only natural then, that we, when searching for eternal life, should ‘count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord’ [Philippians 3:8 ]. Mary Magdalene only needed to know where they had laid her Lord and her resolve was, ‘I will take him away;’ for surely, she thought, her bodily strength could never fail under such a burden, and she measured the power of her body by the strength of her love. So do destitute sinners, who need a Saviour, utterly laugh at hazards or hardships which may intervene. Come mountain or valley, rapid or rock, whirlpool or tempest, desire has equipped the traveller with an omnipotence of heart, and a world of dangers is trodden beneath the feet, with the shout of Deborah ‘O my soul, march on in strength!’ [Judges 5:21 ]

‘I doubt not,’ said Rutherford to Lady Kenmure, ‘that if hell were betwixt you and Christ, as a river which ye behoved to cross ere ye could come at him, but ye would willingly put in your foot, and make through to be at him, upon hope that he would come in himself into the deepest of the river, and lend you his hand.’ Doubtless it is so with you, reader, if you are as we have described.

We also think we may be allowed to add, that the earnest inquirer does not object to any position of humiliation which may be required of him before he can ‘see Jesus.’ It is only demanded ‘where?’ and though the reply may be, ‘Over there, in the cell of repentance, on your bended knees, stripped of all your glories, shall you alone behold him,’ your lurking pride will be revealed without delay; but an instantaneous and joyful obedience will manifest that the one absorbing passion has entirely swallowed up all ideas of dignity, honour, and pride.

Like Benhadad, when in danger, hearing that the king of Israel is a merciful king, we will consent to put sackcloth on our loins, and ropes on our necks, and go in to him, hoping for some words of favour. We surrender to discretion, yielding the weapons of our sins and the baggage of our pleasures. He that is down so low as to be wholly submissive, will find that even justice will not strike him. Mercy always flies near the ground. The flower of grace grows in the small valley of humility. The stars of love shine in the night of our self‑despair. If truth does not lie in a well, certainly mercy does. The hand of justice spares the sinner who has thrown away both the sword of rebellion and the plumes of his pride. If we will do and be anything or everything, so that we may but win Christ, we shall soon find him to be everything to us. There is no more hopeful sign of coming grace than an emptiness of our own selfish terms and conditions, for ‘God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble’ [James 4:6 ]

Thus we have tried to sum up all the promises which this state affords, but cheering though they may be, we fear few will accept the comfort they afford; for ‘like vinegar on soda, is one who sings songs to a heavy heart;’ [Proverbs 25:20 ] and it is generally useless to express sympathy to a patient undergoing an operation, by reflecting on the benefits of that operation, seeing that while the pain lasts he will still cry out and groan. Never-theless, we who have escaped cannot refrain from singing outside the walls of the dungeon, in the hope that some within may hear and take heart. Let us say to every mourner in Zion, Be of good cheer, for ‘He who walked in the garden, and made a noise that made Adam hear his voice, will also at some time walk in your soul, and make you hear a more sweet word, yet ye will not always hear the noise and din of his feet when He walketh’ [Rutherford]. Ephraim is bemoaning and mourning [Jeremiah 31:18 ] ‘when he thinks God is far off, and does not listen; and yet God is like the bridegroom, standing only behind a thin wall, [Song of Solomon 2:9 ] and he himself says, I have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself.’ ‘I will surely have mercy on him, says the Lord’ [Jeremiah 31:20 ]

You be of good cheer, O seeker; go on, for hope prophesies success, and the signs of your case predict a happy deliverance. None who are like you have failed in the end; persevere, and be saved.

II. We have now arrived at our second division, wherein we proposed to consider the reasons of this tarrying. May our Divine Illuminator enlighten us while we write!

We believe that many are delayed because they do not seek in the right way, or because they do not eagerly seek, we have nothing to do with these persons at this time; we are dealing with the genuine convert, the sincere searcher, who still cannot find his Lord. To the exercised mind no question is more difficult to answer than this, ‘Why does he not hear?’ but when delivered from our distress, nothing is more full of joy than the rich discovery that ‘he has done all things well.’

If our reader is now in sorrow, let him believe what he cannot see, and receive the testimony of others who now bear witness that ‘God's way is in the sea, and his path in the great waters.’

1. We now perceive that it afforded pleasure to Jesus, to view the labours of our faith in pur-suit after him.

Jesus does often hide his face from his children, that he may hear the sweet music of their cry. When the woman of Canaan came before our Lord, he did answer her at all; and when her insistence prevailed somewhat, a harsh sentence was all she obtained. Yet the blessed Jesus was not angry with her, but was pleased to behold her faith struggling amid the waves of his seeming neglect, and finding anchorage even on that hard word which appeared like a rock ready to wreck her hopes. He was so charmed with her holy daring and heavenly resolution, that he detained her for a time to feast his eyes upon the lovely spectacle. The woman had faith in Christ, and Jesus would let all men see what faith can do in honour of its Lord.

Great kings have among their attendants certain well trained artistes who play before them, while they, sitting with their court, be-hold their feats with pleasure. Now, Faith is the king's champion, whom he delights to put upon labours of the most herculean kind. Faith has, when summoned by its Master, stopped the sun and chained the moon; it has dried the sea and divided rivers; it has dashed bul-warks to the ground; quenched the violence of fire; stopped the mouths of lions; turned to flight the armies of the aliens, and robbed death of its prey.

Importunity is the king's running footman; he has been known to run month after month without losing his breath, and over mountains he leaps with the speed of Asahel; therefore, the Lord at times tries his endurance, for he loves to see what his own children can perform. Prayer, is also one of the royal musicians; and although many do prefer his brother, who is called Praise, yet this one has always had an equal share of the king's favour. His lute played so sweetly that the heavens have smiled with sunshine for the space of three years and six months [James 5:17 , James 5:18 ], then at the sound of lute; and when again the melodious notes were heard, the same skies did weep for joy and rain descended on the earth. Prayer has made God's axe of vengeance stop in mid air, when hastening to cut down hindrance to the ground; and his sword has been lulled to sleep in its scabbard by the soft sonnets of prayer, when it sung of pardons bought with blood. Therefore, because Jesus delighted in these courtiers [an attendant at a sovereign's court] whom he has chosen, he always finds them work to do, whereby they may min-ister unto his good pleasure. Surely you who walk in darkness, and see no light, may be well content to grope your way for a while, if it is true that this midnight journey is but one of the feats of faith, which God is pleased that you should perform. Go on then in confidence.

2. We may sometimes regard this delay as an exhibition of Divine sovereignty.

God is not bound to persons nor to time; as he gives to whom he pleases, so he also bestows his favours in his own time and manner. Very frequently the prayer and the answer attend each other, as the echo does the speaker's voice. Usually it is, ‘Before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear’ [Isaiah 65:24 ]. But Divine prerogative must be manifested and maintained, and therefore he sometimes gives temporary denials or protracted delays. Through some of our village squares the right of way is private, and in order to maintain the right, although the road is usually open, yet there are gates which at times are closed for a season, lest anyone should imagine that they could demand a passage; so, although mercy is free and speedy, yet it is not always immediate, so that men may know that the giver has a right to refuse. Jesus is no paid physician, who is obligated to give us his calls; therefore he will sometimes step in late in the day, that we may remember that he is not our debtor.

Oh! our hearts loathe the pride which does not bow to Divine sovereignty, but arrogantly declares God to be under obligations to his creatures. Those who are full of this satanic spirit will not assert this in plain language, but while they quibble at election, talking with sinful breath about ‘partiality,’ ‘injustice,’ ‘respect of per-sons’ and other things like these, they too plainly show that their old nature is yet unhumbled by Divine grace. We are sure of this, that no convinced sinner, when under a sense of his deserved punishment, will ever dispute the justice of God in damning him, or quarrel with the distinguishing grace which Heaven gives to one and not to another. If such a person has not yet been able to subscribe to the doctrine of sovereign, discriminat-ing, electing grace, we do not wonder that he has found no peace; for truly Jesus will have him know that his bounties are in his own hand, and that no one can lay any claim to them.

Herbert, in his Country Parson, says, ‘He gives no set pension unto any, for then, in time, it will lose the name of charity with the poor, and they will reckon upon it, as on a debt;’ truly it would be so even with the lovingkindnesses of the Lord, if they were always bestowed when man at first desires them. There is nothing over which the Lord is more jealous than his crown his sove-reignty his right to do as he will with his own. How grateful should we be that he uses such lenient and gentle means to preserve his dig-nity; and that while he might, if he pleased, blockade the gates of salvation forever, he does only for a moment cause them to be closed, that we may sing all the more loudly when we obtain an entrance through them.

3. A ministry devoid of gospel grace is a frequent cause of long delays in finding the Saviour.

Some of us, in the days of our sorrow for sin, were compelled by circumstances to sit under a legalist preacher who only increased our pain, and aggravated our woe. Destitute of all joy and mercy, but most of all lacking a clear view of Jesus the Mediator, the sermons we heard were wells without water, and clouds without rain. Elegant in diction, admirable in style, and faultless in composition, they fell on our ears even as the beautiful crystals of snow fall upon the surface of a brook, and only tend to swell its floods. Good morality, consistent practice, upright dealing, amiable behaviour, gentle bearing, and modest behavior, were the everyday themes of the pulpit; but, alas! they were of as little service to us as instructions to dance would be to a man who has lost both his legs. We have often been reminded by such preachers, of the doctor who told a poor penniless widow that her sick son could easily be cured if she would give him the best wine, and remove him at once to Baden‑Baden [A city in Germany, which has long been one of Europe's most fashionable spas.] the poor creature’s fingers staring all the while through the tips of her wornout gloves, as if they wished to see the man who gave advice so profoundly impracticable.

Far be it from us to condemn the preaching of morality by such men, for it is doubtless all they can preach, and their intentions being good, it is probable they may sometimes be of service in restraining the community from acts of disorder; but we do deny the right of many to call themselves Christian ministers, while they constantly and systematically neglect to declare the truths which lie at the very founda-tion of the Gospel. A respected bishop of the Episcopalian denomination [Bishop Lavington], in addressing the clergy of the last century, said, ‘We have long been attempting to reform the nation by moral preaching. With what effect? None. On the contrary, we have dexterously preached the people into downright infidelity. We must change our voice; we must preach Christ and him crucified; nothing but the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation.’ We fear that in some measure this is the case even now -oh, that we would dare to hope otherwise! Let those of us who are engaged in the work of the ministry take heed to ourselves, and to our doc-trine, that we cause no needless pain, and retard no man’s progress to a Saviour; and let our reader look to his own soul’s salvation, and select his pastor, not for his eloquence, learning, friendliness, or popularity, but for his clear and constant testimony to the Gospel of Christ. The witness of the pulpit must be incessantly evangelical, nor is a single exception to be allowed. A venerable theologian justly writes, ‘Faithful preachers never preach mere philo-sophy, nor mere metaphysics, nor mere mo-rality’ [Emmons]. How many poor souls may now be in bondage by your lifeless preaching, O you who love anything better than the simple Gospel! What are you but polished bolts on the door of the dungeon of the distressed, or a well‑dressed enemy soldier, scaring men from the palace of mercy? Ah! it will be good for some if they shall be able to wash their hands of the blood of souls, for truly in the cells of eternal condemnation there are heard no yells of horror more appall-ing than the shrieks of damned ministers. Oh, to have misled men to have ruined their souls forever!

Happy suicide [Mr. Sadlier], who by his own hand escapes the sound of the curses of those he victimized! happy in comparison with the man who will forever hear the accusing voices of the many who have sunk to perdition through the rottenness of the doctrine which he offered them for their support. Here, on our knees we fall, and pray for grace that we may ever hold up Jesus to the sinner; not doctrine without Jesus, which is as the pole without the brazen serpent, but Jesus a whole Jesus to poor lost sinners. We are sure that many convinced souls have tarried long in the most distressing condition, simply because, by reason of the poverty of their spiritual food, their weakness was so great that the cry of Hezekiah was theirs ‘This day is a day of trouble; for the children have come to birth, but there is no strength to bring them forth’ [Isaiah 37:3 ]. May our glorified Jesus soon come into his Church, and raise up shepherds after his own heart, who, endowed with the Holy Spirit, full of sympathy, and burning with love, shall visit those who are out of the way, and guide the wanderer to the fold. Such men are still to be found. O reader, search them out, sit at their feet, receive their word, and do not be disobedient to the commands which they utter from heaven.

4. Misunderstanding of the nature of salva-tion, in some cases, delays the happy hour of Christ's appearance.

A natural tendency to legalist ideas dims the mind to the perception of the doctrine of Jesus, which is grace and truth. A secret desire to do something in part to aid Jesus, prevents us from viewing him as ‘all our Salvation, and all our desire.’ Humbled though we have been by the cutting down of all our righteousness, yet the old root will sprout ‘at the scent of water it will bud;’ and so long as it does so, there can be no solid peace, no real cleaving to Christ. We must learn to spell the words law and grace, without mingling the letters.

While sick men take two kinds of medicine there is little hope of a cure, especially if the two drinks are compounded of opposing in-gredients; the bird which lives on two trees builds its nest on neither; and the soul halting between grace and works can never find rest for the sole of its foot. Perhaps, my reader, a secret and almost imperceptible self‑trust is the very thing which shuts out Christ from your soul. Search and look.

Many seekers are expecting some extraordinary sign and wonder before they can believe. They imagine that conversion will come upon them in some marvellous manner, like Mary's visitation by the angel. Like Naaman, they are dreaming that the prophet will strike his hand over the place of disease, and they shall recover. ‘Go and wash in Jordan seven times’ has not enough mystery in it for their poor minds: ‘Unless these people see signs and wonders, they will by no means believe’ [John 4:48 ]. However, let no one hope for miracles; won-ders do occur: some are brought to Jesus by vision and revelation, but far more are drawn by the usual means of grace, in a manner which is far removed from the marvellous. The Lord is not in the whirlwind, the Lord is not in the fire; but usually he speaks in the still small voice. Surely it should be enough for us, if we find pardon in the appointed method, without desiring to have rare and curious experiences, with which, in later years, we may gratify our own self-love, and elevate ourselves as singular favourites of heaven.

Regeneration is indeed a supernatural work, but it is usually a silent one. It is a pulling down of strongholds, but the earth does not shake with the fall; it is the building of a temple, but there is no sound of hammer at its erection; like the sunrise, it is not heralded by the a trumpet blast, nor do wonders hide beneath its wings. We know who the mother of mystery is; do we desire to be her children? Strange phantoms and marvel-lous creatures find their dwelling place in dark-ness; light is not in relationship with mystery; let none be hoping to find it so. Believe and live is the plan of the Gospel; if men would but lay aside their old ideas, they would soon find Jesus as their very present help; but because they look for unpromised manifestations, they seek in vain, until disappointment has taught them wisdom.

5. Although the seeking penitent has re-nounced all known sin, yet it may be that some sin of ignorance yet remains unconfessed, and unrepented of, which will frequently be a cause of great and grievous delay.

God, who searches Jerusalem with candles, will have us examine ourselves most thoroughly. He has issued a search warrant to conviction, which gives that officer a right to enter every room of our house, and command every Rachel to rise from her seat lest the images should be beneath her [Genesis 31:34 , Genesis 31:35 ]. Sin is so skilful in deception, that it is hard to discover all its lurking places; neither is it easy to detect its character when brought before our eyes, since it will often borrow the garb of virtue, and appear as an angel of light; nor should we ourselves use sufficient diligence in its destruction, if the delay of the needed mercy did not urge us to a more vigorous pursuit of the traitors who have brought us into grief. Our gracious Lord, for our own sake, desires the execution of our secret sins, and by his frowns he causes to be on guard lest we should indulge or harbour them.

Never, perhaps, shall we again possess so deep a horror of sin as in that moment when we almost despaired of deliverance from it, and therefore never shall we be so fully prepared to exterminate it. Eternal wisdom will not allow a season so favorable to pass without improvement; and having melted our heart in the furnace till the scum floated on the surface, it does not allow it to cool until the dross has been removed. Look to yourself, O seeker, for perhaps the cause of your pain lies in your own heart. How small a splinter prevents the healing of a festered wound; extract it, and the cure is easy. Be wise; what you do, do quickly, but do it perfectly; thus you shall do good work for eternity, and speed the hour of your acceptance. Be sure sin will find you out, unless you find it out first. A warrior stimulated the valour of his soldiers by simply pointing to the enemy and exclaiming, ‘Lads, there they are, if you do not kill them, they will kill you.’ Thus we would remind you, that sin will destroy you if you do not destroy it. Be concerned, then, to drive it from your heart.

6. Usefulness in after life is often increased by the bitter experience with which the soul is exercised while seeking after Jesus.

Since this has already received our attention, we will close our meditations on the reasons for protracted delay, by the simple remark, that it is of far more importance to a penitent to use every means for obtaining the Saviour's blessing, than to inquire into the motives which have, up till now, made him deaf to his petitions. Earnestly do we entreat the mourner to strive to enter in at the narrow gate, and to continue his cry ‘Oh, that I knew where I might find him!’

III. It is now our pleasant duty to direct the troubled spirit to the means of obtaining speedy and lasting peace.

May the God who opened the eyes of the desolate Hagar in the wilder-ness, and guided her so that she saw a well of water where she filled her empty bottle, use us as his finger to point the thirsting, dying sinner to the place where He stands, who once said, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink’ [John 7:37 ]. Our rules shall be expressed in simple words that the wayfaring man, though a fool, may not err therein. 1. Go where he goes.

Do you desire to present a petition to the king‑-will you not go to his palace to do it? Are you blind where should you sit but at the wayside, begging? Have you a painful disease where is there a place more fitting for you than the porch of Bethesda, where my Lord walks? Are you affected with palsy -do you not desire to be in his presence, though on your bed, you will be let down to the spot where he stands?’ Did not Obadiah and Ahab journey through the whole land of Israel to find Elijah? and will you not visit every place where there is hope of meeting Jesus? Do you know where his haunts are? Have you not heard that he dwells on the hill of Zion, and has fixed his throne of mercy within the gates of Jerusalem? Has it not been told to you that he often comes up to the feast, and mingles with the worshippers in his temple? Have not the saints assured you that he walks in the midst of his Church, even as John, in a vision, saw him among the golden lampstands? Go, then, to the city which he has chosen for his dwelling place, and wait within the doors which he has condescended to enter. If you know of a gospel minister, sit in the solemn assembly over which he is leader. If you have heard of a church which has been favoured with visits from its Lord, go and sit in their midst, that when he comes he may bid you to put your hand into his side, and do not be faithless but believing. Lose no oppor-tunity of attending the word: Thomas doubted, because he was not there when Jesus came.

Let sermons and prayers be your delight, because they are roads on which the Saviour walks. Let the righteous be your constant company, for such persons always bring Him when they come. The least thing you can do is to stand where grace usually dispenses its favour. Even the beggar writes his petition on the flagstone of a frequented thoroughfare, because he hopes that among the many that pass by, a few at least will give him charity; learn from him to offer your prayers where mercies are known to move in the greatest number, that among them all, there may be one for you. Keep your sail up when there is no wind, that when it blows you will not have to prepare for it; use means when you see no grace attending them, for thus will you be in the way when grace comes. It is better to go fifty times and gain nothing than lose one good opportunity. If the angel does not stir the pool, yet still lie there, for it may be that the moment when you leave it, that it will be the season of his descending [John 5:4-8 ]. ‘Being on the way, the Lord met with me,’ said one of old; you be on the way, that the Lord may meet with you. Old Simeon found the infant Messiah in the Temple; had he deserted its hallowed courts he might never have said, ‘My eyes have seen your salvation’ [Luke 2:30 ]. Be sure to stay in mercy's way.

2. Cry after Him. You have been lying in his path for many days, but he has not turned his eye on you. What then? Are you content to let him pass you by? Are you willing to lose so precious an opportunity? No! you desire life, and you will not be ashamed to beg loudly for it: you will not fear to take him for an example of whom it is written, ‘When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Then many warned him to be quiet; but he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”’ [Mark 10:47 , Mark 10:48 ]. It is an old proverb, ‘We lose nothing by asking,’ and it is in older promise, ‘Ask, and you will receive.’ Do not be not afraid of crying too loudly. It is recorded, to the honour of Mordecai, that he cried with a loud cry; and we know that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence. Do not think it is possible to pray too frequently, but at morning, at noon, and at evening time, lift up your soul to God. Do not let despondency stop the voice of your supplication, for He who hears the young ravens when they cry, will in due time listen to the trembling words of your desire. Give Him no rest until he hears you; like the persistent widow, you always be at the heels of the great One; do not give up because the past has proved apparently fruit-less, remember Jericho stood firm for six days, but yet when they gave a great shout, it fell flat to the ground. ‘"Arise, cry out in the night, at the beginning of the watches; pour out your heart like water before the face of the Lord. Let tears run down like a river day and night; give yourself no relief; give your eyes no rest’ [Lamentations 2:19 , Lamentations 2:18 ]. Let groans, and sighs, and vows keep up a perpetual assault at heaven's doors.

‘Groans freshened with vows, and vows made salt with tears;

Unscale his eyes, and scale his conquered ears:

Shoot up the bosom‑shafts of your desire,

Feathered with faith, and double‑forked with fire;

And they will hit: fear not, where heaven bids come,

Heaven is never deaf, but when man's heart is dumb.’

Augustine sweetly writes, ‘Thou mayest seek after honours, and not obtain them; thou mayest labour for riches, and yet remain poor; thou mayest dote on pleasures, and have many sorrows. But our God of his supreme goodness says, Who ever sought me, and found me not? whoever desired me, and obtained me not? whoever loved me, and missed of me? I am with him that seeks for me: he hath me already that wisheth for me; and he that loveth me is sure of my love.’ O reader, try it and see whether it is not so, for we have found it so.

3. Think of his promises. He has uttered many sweet and gracious words, which are like the call of the hen, inviting you to nestle beneath his wings, or like white flags of truce bidding you to come without fear. There is not a single promise which, if followed up, will not lead you to the Lord. He is the centre of the circle, and the promises, like the radius, all meet in him, and then become Yes and Amen. As the streams run to the ocean, so do all the sweet words of Jesus tend to himself: launch your small vessel upon any one of them, and it shall bear you onward to the broad sea of his love. Lost on a dreary moor, the wanderer discovers his cottage by the light in the window casting a gleam over the darkness of the waste; so also must we find out ‘our dwelling place’ by the lamps of promise which our Saviour has placed in the windows of his word. The handkerchiefs brought from the person of Paul healed the sick; surely the promises, which are the garments of Christ, will benefit all diseases. We all know that the key of promise will unfasten every lock in Doubting Castle; will we be content to lie any longer in that dungeon when that key is already in our hand? A large number of the ransomed of the Lord have received their liberty by means of a cheering word applied with power. Be constant in reading the word and meditation upon it. Amid the fair flowers of promise grows the rose of Sharon pluck the promises, and you may find Him with them. He feeds among the lilies do you feed there also. The sure words of Scripture are the footsteps of Jesus imprinted on the soil of mercy -follow the track and find Him. The promises are cards of admission not only to the throne, the mercy seat, and the audience chamber, but to the very heart of Jesus. Look up to the sky of Revelation, and you will yet find a constellation of promises which shall guide your eye to the star of Bethlehem. Above all, cry aloud when you read a promise, ‘Remember the word to your servant, upon which you have caused me to hope’ [Psalms 119:49 ].

4. Meditate on his person and his work. If we were better acquainted with Jesus, we would find it easier to believe him. Many souls mourn because they cannot make themselves believe; and the constant exhortations of minister, persuading them to faith, cause them to sink deeper in the mire, since all their attempts prove ineffectual. It would be good for both if they would remember that the mind is not to be compelled to belief by exhortation or force of will; a small acquaintance with the elements of mental science would suffice to show them that faith is a result of previous states of the mind, and flows from those antecedent conditions, but is not a position to which we can attain without passing through those other states which the Divine laws, both of nature and of grace, have been made into the stepping stones. Even in natural things, we cannot believe a thing simply because we are persuaded to do so; we require evidence; we ask, ‘What are we to believe?’ we need instruction on the matter before we can lay hold of it. In spiritual things, we espe-cially need to know what we are to believe, and why. We cannot by one stride mount to faith, and it is at least useless, not to say cruel, to urge us to do so, unless we are told the grounds on which our faith must rest. Some men en-deavour to preach sinners to Christ; we prefer to preach Christ to sinners. We believe that a faith-ful exhibition of Jesus crucified will, under the Divine blessing, beget faith in hearts where fiery and vehement oratory have failed. Let this be borne in mind by those who are be-wailing themselves, in the words of John Newton:

‘Oh, could but I believe,

Then all would easy be;

I would, but cannot Lord, relieve!

My help must come from thee.’

You will not need to have to pray in this fashion very long, if you can obey the rule we would put before you, which is, meditate on Jesus; reflect upon the mystery of his incarnation and re-demption; and frequently picture the agonies of Gethsemane and Calvary. The cross not only demands faith, but causes it. The same Christ who requires faith for salvation infuses faith into all those who meekly and reverently meditate upon his sacrifice and mediation. We learn to believe in an honest man by an ac-quaintance with him, even so (although faith is the gift of God, yet he gives it in the use of the means) it comes to pass that by frequent con-sideration of Jesus, we know him, and therefore trust in him. You go to the gloomy brook of Kedron, make Gethsemane your garden of retire-ment, tread the blood‑stained Gabbatha, climb the hill of Calvary, sit at the foot of the accursed tree, watch the victim in his agonies, listen to his groans, mark his flowing blood, see his head bowed on his breast in death, look into his open side; then walk to the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, behold him rise, witness his ascension, and view him exalted far above principalities and powers, as the mediator for sinful men: thus shall you see and believe, for truly hard is that unbelief which can endure such sights; and if the Holy Spirit leads you to a true vision of them, you shall inevitably believe, finding it impossible to any longer be incredulous. A true view of Calvary will strike unbelief with death, and put faith into its place. Spend hours in holy retirement, tracing his pilgrimage of woe, and you shall soon sing,

‘Oh how sweet to view the flowing

Of his soul-redeeming blood;

With Divine assurance knowing

That he made my peace with God!’

5. Venture on Him. This is the last but best advice we can give you, and if you have attended to that which precedes it, you will be enabled to follow it. We have said ‘venture,’ but we imply no venture of risk, but one of courage. To be saved it is required of you to renounce all hope of salvation by any means except Jesus that you have submitted to. Next you are called upon to cast yourself entirely on him, prostrating yourself before his cross, content to rely wholly on Him. Do this and you are saved, refuse and you are damned. Subscribe your name to this simple rhyme‑

’I'm a poor sinner, and nothing at all,

But Jesus Christ is my all in all;’

and, doing this, you are secure of heaven.

Do you delay because of unworthiness? Oh, do not do so, for he invites you just as you are. You are not too sinful, for he is ‘able to save to the uttermost.’ Do not think little of his power or his grace, for he is infinite in each; only fall flat upon his gracious declaration, and you shall be embraced by his mercy. To believe is to take Jesus at his word, and when all things deny you the hope of salvation, still call Him yours. Now we beseech you launch into the deep, now cut your moorings and give yourself up to the gale, now leave the rudder in his hands, and surrender your keeping to his guardianship. In this way alone shall you obtain peace and eternal life.

May the Directing Spirit lead us each to Him in whom there is light, and whose light is the life of men.

TO THE UNCONVERTED READER

______________________

FRIEND, Love for your soul constrains us to set apart this small attachment for your special benefit. Oh that you had as much love for your own soul as the writer has! Though he may have never seen you, yet remember when he wrote these lines he prayed a special prayer for you, and he had you on his heart while he penned these few but earnest words.

O Friend, you are no seeker of Jesus, but the reverse! To your own confusion you are going from him instead of to him! Oh, stop a moment and consider your ways your position - your end!

As for your ways , they are not only wrong before God, but they are uneasy to yourself. Your conscience, if it is not seared with a hot iron, is every day thundering at you on account of your paths of folly. Oh that you would turn from your error, while you can still hear the promise, ‘Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon’ [Isaiah 55:7 ]. Do not be betrayed into a continuance in these ways in the vain hope that your life will be prolonged to an indefinite period, in which you hope to accomplish repentance; for life is as frail as the bubble on the breaker, and as swift as the Indian arrow. To-morrow may never come, oh use ‘today’

‘ Now , is the constant syllable ticking from the clock of time;

Now , is the watchword of the wise; Now , is on the banner of the prudent.

Cherish your today, and prize it well, or ever it be engulfed in the past;

Husband it, for who can promise if it shall have a tomorrow?’ [Tupper’s Proverbial Philosophy ]

‘Tomorrow is a fatal lie the wrecker's beacon wily snare of the destroyer;’ be wise, and see to your ways while time waits for you.

Next, consider your position . A condemned criminal waiting for execution; a tree, at the root of which the axe is gleaming ; a target, to which the shaft of death is speeding; an insect beneath the finger of vengeance waiting to be crushed; a wretch hurried along by the strong torrent of time to an inevitable precipice of doom.

Your present position is enough to pale the cheek of carelessness, and move the iron knees of profanity. A man asleep in a burning house, or with his neck upon the block of the heads-man, or lying before the mouth of a cannon, is not in a more dangerous situation than you are. Oh you must think, before desolation, destruction, and damnation, seal up your destiny, and stamp you with despair!

Be sure, also, that you consider your final end, for it is yours whether you consider it or not. You are ripening for hell; oh, how will you endure its torments! Ah! If you would afford a moment to visit, in your imagination, the cells of the condemned, it might benefit you forever. What! are you afraid to examine the house in which you are to dwell? What! rush to a place and be afraid to see a picture of it? Oh let your thoughts precede you, and if they bring back a dismal story, it may induce you to change your mind and tread another path! You will lose nothing by meditation, but rather gain much by this means. . Oh let the miseries of lost souls warn you lest you also come into this place of torment! May the day soon arrive when you can cry after the Lord, and then even you shall be delivered!

Longing to Find God September 14, 1890 by C. H. SPURGEON (1834-1892)

"Oh that I knew where I might find him!" --Job 23:3 .

"Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" Observe that Job is so taken up with his one great desire, that he forgets that everybody else is not thinking in the same way; and he uses a pronoun, though be has not before uttered the name of God. The man is carried away with his desire. He does not say, "Oh, that I knew where I might find God!" but, "where I might find him." An overwhelming passion will often speak like that. See how the Song of Songs, that sweet canticle of love, begins, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth for thy love is better than wine." There is no mention of any person's name. We forget many thing s when we are taken up with one thing. We forget that, as Madame Guyon wrote,--

"All hearts are cold, in every place;"

and when our heart grows warm, we fancy that all other hearts are warm, too. Remember how Mary Magdalene, when she met our Lord on the resurrection morning, and, "supposing him to be the gardener," said to him, "Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away." Nay, but Mary, thou hast not mentioned the name of the person. Thou beginnest, "If thou have borne him hence." How should another know of whom thou speakest? This is the way of a concentrated individuality. When it is set, desperately set, upon some one object, it forgets to whom it speaks; it only remembers the beloved one upon whom its affections are fixed.

Now, this is one reason why the man who is earnestly seeking after God is often misunderstood. He does not speak as one would speak who was cool and calm. His heart is hot within him, and his words are fire-flakes; so that those about him say, "The man is mad. He is not sober, as he used to be; he is going out of his mind." I would to God that many were so mad that they cried in the depths of their soul, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" for, if God knows whom you are seeking, it is of small consequence whether your fellow-creatures know, or do not know. If he accepts you, do not be cast down if men misunderstand you.

Thus, you see, Job's longing was all-absorbing; it was also personal, he longed personally to find God. I know many people who have great longings; but they are for things that are trivial compared with the longing of Job. Job does not sigh to comprehend the incomprehensible. He does not wish to find out the divine decree. He does not trouble about where free agency and predestination meet. He does not desire to know, out of mere curiosity, or for the attainment of barren knowledge; but his cry is, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him! Oh, that I could get at God! Oh, that I could have dealings with the Most High! Oh, that I could feel at perfect peace with him, and rest in him, and be happy in the light of his countenance!" Now, some of you, perhaps, in years gone by, were very curious and anxious about various theological questions; the time was when you would have disputed with almost anyone who came along; but you have given all that up; and now you want to find God, and to be reconciled to him. You want to know from God's own lips that there is peace between you, and that he loves you, and will never cease to love you. You have been, perhaps, for weeks trying to find a way of access to God; and, though there is such a way, and it is close to you, you have not yet perceived it. This one thing occupies your mind, not that you may know about God, or split hairs about doctrinal theories concerning him, but that you may find HIM. I would to God it were the case with everyone in this congregation, that you, either had him or were sighing and crying after him. This is not a point upon which any man can afford to be neutral. We must find God; for if we do not, we are ourselves lost.

On further reading the text, I feel still more pleased with Job's determination about getting to God. He says, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" He does not make any condition as to where he might find God. If it were in heaven, he would try to scale its heights. If it were in the abyss, he would hopefully plunge into the deep. If God be far away, at the uttermost ends of the earth, Job is willing to go there. If God is to be found in his temple, or, for the matter of that, in the lowest dungeon, Job only wants to know where he may find him; and if he may find him, he will not make any conditions as to where it may be. We noticed in our reading that Job said, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him! That I might come even to his seat!" He was willing to come even to God's judgment-seat if he could not find him anywhere else.

It will be a great mercy for you if you are so anxious to find God that you will not set any bounds as to where you shall find him. You would be glad to find him at your usual place of worship; but you would be just as glad to find him in the midst of quite another people. You would be thankful to find him in your own chamber when you bow your knee in prayer; but you would be quite as pleased to find him in the midst of your business. You would rejoice to find him whether it was in the heat of noontide, or in the cool of midnight. Your cry is, "Only let me find him, an d time and place shall be of no consequence to me."

With regard to instrumentalities, also, you would be pleased to be converted to God by a learned and eloquent minister; but you would be quite as willing to find Christ by means of the most illiterate. You will be quite content with the man against whom you have been prejudiced, if God will but bless him to you. Ay, though it were your own servant girl, or some boy in the street, if they could but tell you the way of salvation so that you could find God, you would be perfectly satisfied! I know you would, for you put in no "ifs" or "buts" or conditions. Your one cry is, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" You are absorbed with that one desire; your whole soul is possessed by that one earnest longing to find God. This desire is intensely personal and practical, and it inspires you with the full determination that, at all costs and all hazards, if you can but find out where God is, you will come to him.

Now, I am going to talk about this desire to find God. I have had it from one or two here present who are deeply anxious, that this is the cry of their spirit day and night, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" In trying to meet their case, our first enquiry will be, What sort of desire is this?--the desire that makes a man, or a woman, or a child, cry out, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" And, secondly, What is the answer to it? How can they Thud God? And, thirdly, Why are some so long in finding God?

I. Our first question, concerning this longing to find God, is, What SORT OF DESIRE IS THIS?

I answer, first, that it takes many forms, according to the circumstances of the person who has the desire. In Job's case, it was a somewhat hazardous desire to come before the court of God to have his righteousness established. I have no doubt that, in bitterness of soul, many a sincere man, when maligned and lampooned, has wished that he could turn to God, and have the matter judged by him. "Thou knowest," says he, "that I am not wicked; I have not been false; I have not been treacherous. Let the case against me be tried by the great Judge of all, who is righteous and impartial. Oh, that I knew where I might find him!"

But the desire is better and more usual on the part of children of God when they have lost the light of his countenance. Beloved, the model Christian is the man who always walks in the light, as God is in the light. But how few there are of these comparatively! Many, I half fear the most of us, are at times in the dark. We wander; we lose our first love; we grow lukewarm; and then God hides his face. Many and many a true child of God has sighed out of the depth of his spirit, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" Are any of you less happy than you used to be? Are you less holy than you used to be? Are you less in prayer than in former years? Have you less tenderness of conscience? Have you less joy in the Lord? Are you doing less for Jesus, and are you more content with the little that you do? Are you going back? Well, then, if God has not hidden his face from you, in all probability he will; and then, when you are in a dry and thirsty land where no water is, you will be like the fainting hart that panteth for the waterbrooks, and you will cry out after God. If you do not, it will be a damning mark. If you can live without your God, you who profess to be a child of God, it will look as if you never were his child. God has spoiled some of us for the world. It is never a matter of self-denial to us to give up its pleasures; for we have no taste for them. If we do not find joy in God, we are of all men most miserable. The brooks and cisterns are dry; and if the smitten rock does not yield us water, we thirst, we faint, we die.

But, beloved, I want to dwell mainly upon this cry as coming from the convicted sinner who has not yet rejoiced in God. He has a burden pressing heavily upon him, and he knows that he can never get rid of it except through the grace of God in Jesus Christ; and he wants to get rid of it. So it has come to this, that day and night he says, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" I like this form of the desire best of all; and I would willingly spend and be spent, that I might encourage and help any who are thus seeking God as their Savior.

Let me say this to any such who are here. This desire is quite contrary, to the desire of nature. You feel yourself lost, and yet this cry comes to your tongue, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" My dear friend, this is not a natural desire. When you were satisfied with the world, you never had this desire. Time was when it never crossed your soul for a moment. When Adam and Eve sinned, they did not want to find God; they hid themselves among the trees of the garden. And you, while you love sin, do not want to find God. You are like Jonah, you would willingly take ship, and flee from God's presence, even to Tarshish. No, the natural man, without the Holy Spirit, never said, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" I should like you to get just a ray of light, not more, out of that remark. That ray of light might cheer you while we proceed.

I think that this desire never comes except by grace. It never takes full possession of any man unless it is wrought in him by the grace of God. There may be a transient desire, but it is no more a sign of spiritual health than is the hectic flush of consumption a proof that the poor patient possesses vigorous physical strength. In the excitement of a revival meeting, you may say, "I wish I was a Christian," but to carry this desire about with you, to have it always within you as a deep ground-swell of your soul, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" this is the work of the Holy Ghost. I trust that we have many here who feel these first pangs of the new birth; for where God begins with us by working in us this desire, he will, in due time, gratify it. If he gives us hunger, he gives us bread to satisfy its cravings. If he gives us a desire for himself, he gives us himself to satisfy that desire.

Then it is sweet to think that this desire is met by the seeking of the Savior. The desire of a man after God is paralleled by Christ's desire after him. "The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." Now, when a sheep begins to seek its shepherd, and at the same time the shepherd is seeking it, it cannot be long before the two meet. I read to you, last Thursday night, a letter from a poor soul, a harlot, who had come in here on the Sabbath morning, and God had met with her. You know how easy it is to make up such a letter with the idea of asking charity; but there was no name to this note, and it contained no request for charity. It was a true letter. There was one part of it that I commend to you. The writer said, "Before you receive this letter, I shall be home at my father's house, from which I wickedly ran away." Ah, there is the point, that going home, that getting back to the father! Now, I have no doubt that the father had sought his girl, but when the girl began to seek him, there would be a meeting very soon. If there is a soul here that wants Christ, Christ wants you. If you were sitting now upon Samaria's well, he would come and sit by you, and he would say to you, "Give me to drink," for you alone can assuage the Savior's thirst, the thirst to save, the thirst to forgive, the thirst to bring wanderers home to the great Father's house. Oh, friend, if this cry be your cry, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" I can see much to comfort you in the thought that, while you are seeking the Lord, he is also seeking you.

But let me add that it will be well if this desire never gets satisfied fled except by God; for there are so many who do not seek till they find him. A friend, writing to me, says, "You have taken away from me all my comfort; you have destroyed my self-righteousness; you have left me in a dreadful condition through the Word of God which you have preached to me. I used to go to early celebrations. I was at church three times a day. I thought that I took the very body and blood of Christ in the holy Eucharist. I have rested in my works; and now the whole structure is gone. I can rest in none of those things any more. My one cry is (and please to sing tonight that hymn that ends),--"Give me Christ, or else I die!"

My dear friend, your letter gave me great delight. I was glad to give out that hymn; but I pray you do not get content till you do find God, for you can come here, you know, and you may even succeed in deceiving us so that you may be baptized, and join the church, and take the communion, and you may rest in all that without saving faith in Christ, and you will not be an inch nearer to God than you were when you rested in the ceremonies of your former church. It is only God who can save you, only God in Christ who can give true rest to your soul. Men may change their churches, and only change their refuge of lies; but if they come to Christ, whatever church they are in, if they have found him, and are trusting in him, and in him alone, their peace will be like a river, and their righteousness as the waves of the sea. God bless any here who are opening their mouths, and panting with this strong desire; but do be sure that you are never comforted till Jesus comforts you! Never be fed except with the bread of heaven. Never rest until you find rest in him whom God has appointed to be our rest, or else you will make a blunder, a fatal blunder, after all.

II. Our second question, concerning this desire, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" is, WHAT IS THE ANSWER TO IT?

Well, in the first place, there is something in the desire itself that gives you comfort; for God is near you now. If you want God, he is everywhere, he is here, he is nearer to you than your hands and feet, nearer to you than your eye or your nerve. He is within you, and round about you. You might ask, with the Psalmist, "Whither shall I flee from thy presence?" and find that task to be impossible; but if you really wish to find God, you may readily do so. He is here; you have not to pray at Jerusalem, nor yet at Mount Gerizim.

"Where'er we seek him, he is found, And every place is hallowed ground."

Believe it, and speak to him now; show him your heart now; appeal to him now, for he is truly near you at this moment.

But you wish to lay hold upon him. Then remember that God is apprehended only by faith. Eyes are of no use in this case; you cannot see a Spirit. Ears are of no use in this case; you cannot hear a Spirit. Your senses may be put aside now; the new sense, the new eye, the new ear, is faith. If thou believest, thou shalt see, and thou shalt hear. Come, deal with God, who is near thee now, by faith. Believe that he is near thee; speak to him; gladly trust him. Faith will apprehend all of God that can be apprehended; and out of faith shall come many other blessed things that will make thee still more familiar with thy God. But now, even now, put out the arms of an inward faith, and say, "I believe thee." Faith comprehends the Incomprehensible, and takes the Infinite within itself.

But still, if what you mean is, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him, in the sense of calling him my own, and having a joyful belief in his love!" well, then, I would say to you, if you want to find him, search his Word. If you will read the Bible with the steady resolve to find God in Christ within its pages, I am morally certain that you will not have to read it long. There is here a holy magnetism, which, if a man comes in contact with these sacred words, shall begin to operate upon him. If you will take the Book, and search it through to learn how God is to be found, you will find him. Then, in connection with the Word written, go and hear the Word spoken, for there are minds that are more affected by speech than by what they read. If you will only hear attentively a faithful gospel minister, it will not be long before you find God. If you go to hear a man merely because he is clever, or one who will tell you stories and interest you, you may never get any good out of him. But if you go saying, "I want to find Christ during this service; I want to lay hold on God to my soul's eternal salvation;" I do not think that you will long frequent some places of worship that I could mention without saying, "I have found God."

Next to that, if you do not seem to profit by the reading and hearing of the Word, seek the Lord in prayer. Get thee to thy chamber; there cry unto thy God, and cease not thy cry; for if thou wilt seek for him as for silver, and search for him as for hidden treasure, thou shalt surely find him. Prayer has a wonderful effect on God. He turns at the cry that comes from the heart. He is sure to look to the man who cries to him for mercy.

And at the same time that you are in prayer, or in connection with it, meditate on divine things. Especially meditate on the person of Christ, God and Man; on the work of Christ, especially his atoning sacrifice. Meditate on the promises; meditate on God's wonders of grace recorded in this delightful Book. Think and pray, and then think and pray again; and my impression is that you will not long have to say, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!"

Yet is there one more word for you. If you would find God, he is to be found in Christ Jesus, "reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them." Do you know the Man Christ Jesus? Can you by faith see him? Fall at his feet; accept him as your Savior; trust him as the Giver and Forgiver, as saving from death and imparting life. Come and take Christ, and you have found God. No man believes in Christ and remains without the favor of God. Oh, that thou wouldst believe in Christ now! This morning I preached about his incarnation, Immanuel, God with us. Think much on this. "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." God came here among men, and took the form of a mortal creature, and here lived and died. Think of that, and believe in him who is God and Man. Then think much of his life, of the many that he healed, the sick ones that he relieved, the sinful that came to hear him, to whom he spoke only words of love. Look through the life of Christ, and I am persuaded that, if thou art willing to do so, thou wilt find amongst those who came to him a case parallel to thy own, and wilt find him dealing with it in love and mercy; and, whilst thou art perusing that wondrous life of love, thou wilt find God. But if it be not so, go a little further.

"Go to dark Gethsemane, Ye that feel the tempter's power."

Stand amid the shade of the olives; hear the Son of God groaning out his very soul, his sweat, as it were great drops of blood, falling to the ground. He pleaded there for sinners, for the guilty. Follow him to Pilate's hall, see him scourged and spat upon; and go, at length, to Calvary, and sit down there in meditation, and mark the wounds in his blessed body, those sacred founts of blood. See his emaciated frame exposed before the sun to the gaze of cruel men. Watch him till you hear him cry, "It is finished." Then see the soldier set his heart abroach; for, even after death, his heart for us its tribute poured; and then, as thou dost remember that he made the heavens and the earth, and yet did hang upon that tree for the guilty, believe thou, and trust him.

"Oh!" says one, "I cannot believe." Now it is a curious thing that, when I have met with persons who find it difficult to believe, I have often been obliged to say to them, "Well , now, there is a strange difference between you and me; for you cannot believe, and I cannot disbelieve." That is to say, when I see Christ, the Son of God, dying for guilty men, I cannot make myself disbelieve. It seems to me to flash its own evidence upon my soul; and I am convinced by the sight I see. How is it that you cannot believe when the Almighty God is one with his sinful creatures, and dies to save them from eternal death? "Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree." When you se e that marvel of marvels, how can you disbelieve? I charge you, by the living God, look to Jesus on the cross, as Israel in the wilderness, bitten by the serpents, looked to the brazen serpent, and by that look lived.

I think this is the way to find God, that is, to come to Christ; for, remember that he is not dead. He is risen. Where is the Christ now? He is at the right hand of God. He maketh intercession for us; yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God may dwell among them. Dost thou believe that Christ makes intercession for sinners? Then trust thyself with him, first as thy Redeemer, and now as thy Intercessor; and so, by a simple trust, thou shalt find thy God, and no more say, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!"

III. I have finished my discourse when I have very briefly answered the third question: WHY ARE SOME SO LONG IN FINDING GOD?

I answer, partly because they are not clear as to what they are seeking. If you want to find God, well, here he is. You yourself know that he is everywhere, so that you have found him. But what I fear some of you want, is some kind of mark, some sign, some feeling. Now, that is not seeking God; you are seeking something in addition to God. I am sure that, in the hour of trial, nothing will stand a man in good stead but simple faith in God by Jesus Christ. "Oh!" says one, "I read of a man, the other day, who was under most wonderful conviction, and of another who had a very remarkable dream, and of another who heard a voice speaking to him." Yes, yes, and all these pretty things are very well when you have faith in Christ. But if you do not trust yourself to Christ, these things are not worth a penny, for some day you will say to yourself," How do I know that I did hear that voice? Might I not have been deceived? How can I be sure that that dream meant anything? May I not have eaten something for supper that made me dream it? And that joy that I felt may have been all a delusion." But if you want God without any of these things, you want exactly what you do need, and I pray you to come and take it by faith in Jesus. Here am I, a guilty sinner; that I know and confess. Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners; that I know by the witness of this Book. I am told that, if I trust him, I am saved. I do trust him, I will not ask for a dream, or a vision, or a voice, or anything. Why should I? Beggars must not be choosers. If God gives me his salvation as he gives it to anybody else, I am perfectly happy, even though I have no striking story to tell, and shall never point a moral or adorn a tale with any anecdote about myself. I am afraid, however, that many are not wanting God so much as wanting the odds and ends that sometimes go with him.

Again, there are some who are crying after God, who are hankering after their own idols. Ah, me! you would like to keep some of your self-righteousness, or some of your sins. One of our friends, coming up from the Norfolk Broads, told me that when the time came to row home, he began pulling away at the oars, and he thought that it was a very long way, and that the scenery was very monotonous, with the same old willow-tree and everything the same as when he started; and someone going by said, "I suppose you know, old fellow, that you have got your anchor down." That is exactly what he had forgotten, and he was rowing with his anchor still down. You will not find God that way if you have an anchor still down. I do not know what your anchor is; perhaps it is the wine-cup, you still take that drop too much. Perhaps it is an evil woman. Perhaps it is some trick in trade that you have been used to. Perhaps it is some secret sin that cannot be told. You cannot find God while you keep that. Achan, how can God come to thy tent, unless it is for judgment, while the Babylonish garment is hidden in the ground? Away with the idols, and then shall you find the true God.

And yet again, there are some who are waiting to feel their need more; and they think that they cannot come to Christ till they feel more than they do at present. Now, again I must get you to alter your cry. I thought that your cry was, "Oh, that I knew where I might find him!" But now your cry is, "Oh, that I knew that I really needed him!" Have you not had enough of that experience? Time was with me when I thought too much of it. I believe a deep ploughing does us good; but, if a man is always ploughing, and never sows anything, he will never have a harvest. Some of you are looking too much to your sense of need. You are not saved by your sense of need; you are saved by the supply of that need. Come as you are. "I have not a broken heart," says one. Come to Christ for a broken heart. "I have not a tender conscience," says another . Come to Christ for a tender conscience. You are not to get half the work done yourself, and then to come to Christ to have it finished. Come as you are, just as you are, hard heart and all. Come along with you, and trust yourself to Jesus, and you shall find your God.

I am afraid that there are a great many also who are clouded in their minds by the great sorrow through which they have passed, for you can be so distressed and distracted that you do not judge clearly. You remember Hagar when the water in her bottle was spent, and her boy was dying of thirst. Just there, close behind her, was a well of water. The angel said to her, "What aileth thee, Hagar?" And we read, "God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water." Some of you have salvation at your fingertips, and you do not know it. You have it in your mouth, as Paul says, and you do not know it, or else you would swallow it down, and live by it at once. Salvation is not up there in the heights, or down here in the deeps. The apostle puts it thus, " If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation." " He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved." So runs the gospel. Look for no other way. Believe. I said not, "Feel," but "Believe." Dream not, dote not, imagine not, but believe; say with thine heart, "I believe that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners; and I trust him to save me.

"Tis done, the great transaction's done; I am my Lord's, and he is mine"

Now thou shalt begin a new life of obedience and holiness, wrought in thee as the result of thy having believed in Jesus Christ, whom God has set forth to be the propitiation for sin. Will you have Christ or not, sinner? If you will not have him, you must perish; if you will have him, he gives himself freely to you; and nothing is freer than a gift. Take him, and go your way happy as the angels. God bless you! Amen.

The Anxious Enquirer

Early 1857 by C. H. SPURGEON (1834-1892)

Oh that I knew where I might find him! Job 23:3

We will say nothing at this time concerning Job, we will leave the patriarch out of the question, and take these words as the exclamation forced from the aching heart of a sinner, when he finds that he is lost on account of sin, and can only be saved by Christ. "Oh that I knew where I might find him," --"my Savior, --that I might be saved by his love and blood!" There are some who tell us that a man can, do as he pleases, in one moment obtain peace with God and joy in the Holy Ghost. Such persons may know something of religion in their own hearts; but I think they are not competent to be judges of others. God may have given them some peace through believing, and brought them immediately into a state of joy; he may have given them some repentance for sin, and then male them quickly to rejoice in Jesus; but I believe that, in many more cases, God begins by breaking the stony heart in pieces, and often makes a delay of days, of weeks, and even of months, before he heals the soul which he has wounded, and gives life to the spirit which he has killed. Many of God's people have been even for years seeking peace, and, finding none; they have known their sins, they have been permitted to feel their guilt, and yet, notwithstanding that they have sought the Lord earnestly with tears, they have not attained to a knowledge of their justification by faith in Christ. Such was the ease with John Bunyan; for many a dreary month he waltzed the earth as one desolate, and said he knew himself to be lost without Christ; on his bended knees, with tears pouring like showers from his eye, he sought mercy, but he found it not. Terrible words haunted him continually; dreadful passages of Scripture kept ringing in his ears; and he found no consolation until, afterwards, God was pleased to appear unto him in all the plentitude of grace, and lead him to cast himself on the Savior.

I think there may be some here, who have been for a long while under the hand of God; some who have been brought so far toward heaven as to know that they are undone for ever unless Christ shall save them. I may be addressing some who have begun to pray; many a time the walls of their chamber have resounded with their supplications; not once, nor twice, nor fifty times, but very often have they bent their knees in agonizing prayer; and yet, up to this moment, so far as their own feelings are concerned, their prayers are unanswered, Christ has not smiled upon them, they have not received the application of his precious blood, and mayhap each one of them is at this hour saying, "I am ready to give up in despair; Jesus said he would receive all who came to him, but, apparently, he has rejected me." Take heart, O mourner! I have a sweet message for thee; and I pray the Lord that thou mayest find Christ on the spot where thou art now standing or sitting, and rejoice in a pardon bought with blood.

I shall now proceed to consider the case of a man who is awakened, and is seeking Christ, but who, at present, has not, to his own apprehension, found him. First, I shall notice some hopeful signs in this man's case; secondly, I shall try to give some reasons why it is that a gracious God delays an answer to prayer in the case of penitent sinners; and then, thirdly, I shall close by giving some brief and suitable advice to those who have been seeking Christ, but have up to the present time found it a hopeless search.

I. First, then, observe that THERE ARE SOME VERY HOPEFUL SIGNS IN THE CASE OF THE MAN WHO HAS BEEN SEEKING CHRIST, THOUGH HE MAY NOT HAVE FOUND HIM.

Taking the text as the basis of observation, I notice, as one hopeful sign, that the man has only one object, and that is, that he may find Christ. "Oh that I knew where I might fled him!" The worldling's cry is, "Who will show us any good; --this good, that good, or any other good, --fifty kinds of good: who will show us any of these?" But the quickened sinner knows of only one good, and he cries, "Oh that I knew where I might find HIM!" When the sinner is truly awakened to feel his guilt, if you could pour the gold of India at his feet, he would say, "Take it away; I want to find HIM." If you could then give him all the joys and delights of the flesh, he would tell you he had tried all these, and they but cloyed upon his appetite. His only cry is, "Oh that I knew where I might find HIM!"

These will never satisfy; Give me Christ, or else I die.

It is a blessed thing for a man when he has brought his desires into a focus; while he has fifty different wishes, his heart resembles a pool of water, which is spread over a marsh, breeding miasma and pestilence; but when all his desires are brought into one channel, his heart becomes like a river of pure water, running along, and fertilizing the fields. Happy is the man who has only one desire, if that one desire is set on Christ, even though it may not yet have been realized. If it be his desire, it is a blessed sign of the divine work within him. Such a man will never be content with mere ordinances. Other men will go up to God's house, and when they have heard the sermon, they will be satisfied; but not so this man; he will say, "Oh that I knew where I might find HIM!" His neighbor, who hears the discourse, will be content; but this man will say, "I want more than that; I want to find Christ in it." Another man will go to the communion table; he will eat the bread, and drink the wine, and that will be enough for him; but the quickened sinner will say, "No bread, no wine, will satisfy me; I want Christ, I must have him. Mere ordinances are of no use to me; I want not the Savior's clothes, I want himself. Do not offer me these things; you are only bringing me the empty pitcher while I am dying of thirst; give me water, the Water of life, or I shall die. It is Christ that I want." This man's cry is, as we have it here in our text, "Oh that I knew where I might find him!"

Is this thy condition, my friend, at this moment? Hast thou but one desire, and is that desire that thou mayest find Christ? Then, as the Lord liveth, thou art not far from the kingdom of heaven. Hast thou but one wish in thy heart, and is that one wish that thou mayest be washed from all thy sins in Jesus' blood? Canst thou really say, "I would give all I have to be a Christian; I would give up everything I have and hope for, if I might but feel that I have an interest in the person and death of Christ"? Then, poor soul, despite all thy fears, be of good cheer; the Lord loveth thee, and thou shalt come out into the daylight soon, and rejoice in the liberty wherewith Christ makes men free.

There is another hopeful sign about this anxious enquirer; not only has the man this one desire, but it is an intense desire. Hear the text again: "Oh that I knew where I might find him!" There is an "Oh!" here; this proves an intensity of desire. There are some men who are apparently very religious, but their religion is never more than skin deep, it does not reach as far as their heart. They can talk of it finely, but they never feel it; it does not well up from the heart, and that is a bad spring that only comes from the lip. But this character whom I am describing is no hypocrite: he means what he says. Other men will say, "Yes, we should like to be Christians; we should like to be pardoned; we should like to be forgiven." And so they would; but they would like to go on in sin, too. They would like to be saved, but they would also like to live in sin; they want to hold with the hare and run with the hounds. They have no desire whatever to give up their sins; they would like to be pardoned for all their past transgressions, and then go on just the same as before. Their wish is of no use, because it is so superficial; but when the sinner is really quickened, there is nothing superficial about him then. His cry is, "Oh that I knew where I might find him!" and that cry comes from his very heart.

Art thou in that condition, my friend? Is thy sigh a real one? Is thy groan no mere fancy, but a real groan from the heart? Is that tear which steals down thy cheek a genuine tear of penitence, which is the evidence of the grief of thy spirit? I think I hear you saying, "Sir, if you knew me, you would not ask me that question, my friends say I am miserable day after day, and so indeed I am. I go to my chamber, at the top of the house, and often do I cry to God; ay, sir, I cry in such a style that I would not, have anyone hear me; I cry, with groans and tears, that I may be brought near to God; I do mean what I say." Then, beloved, thou shalt be saved; so surely as it is a real emotion of the heart, God will not let thee perish. Never was there a sinner whose inmost spirit cried to the Lord for salvation, who was not already loved of God; never was there one who, with all his might, desired to be saved, and whose soul groaned out that desire in hearty prayer, who was cast away by God. His mercy may tarry, but it will come. Pray on still; he will hear thee at last, and thou shalt yet "rejoice in hope of the glory of God."

But notice again that, in the text, there is an admission of ignorance, which is another very hopeful sign. "Oh that I knew!" Many people think they know everything, and, consequently, they know nothing. I think it is Seneca who says, "Many a man would have been wise if he had not thought himself so; if he had but known himself to be a fool, he would have become wise." The doorstep to the temple of wisdom is s knowledge of our own ignorance; he cannot learn aright who has not first been taught that he knows nothing. A sense of ignorance is a very excellent sign of grace. It is a singular thing, that every man seems to think himself qualified to be a Doctor of Divinity; a man who knows nothing of any other science, fancies he perfectly understands this greatest of all sciences; and, alas! alas! for those who think they know so much about God's things, and yet have never been taught of God! Man's school is not God's school. A man may go to all the Colleges in creation, and know as little of theology when he comes out as when he went into them. It is a good thing for a man to feel that he is only beginning to learn, and to be willing to open his mind to the teaching of God's Spirit, that he may be guided in everything by him. He that is foolish enough to fancy that he knoweth everything need not thinly himself a Christian; he that boasteth that he understands all mysteries needeth to fear as to his true state; but the quickened soul prays to the Lord, "Teach thou me." We become little children when God begins t o deal with us. Before that, we were big, tall men and women, and oh! so wise; but when he takes us in hand, he cuts us down to the stature of children, and we are put on the form of humility, to learn the true lessons of wisdom, and then we are taught the mysteries of the kingdom. Happy art thou, O man, if thou knowest thyself to know nothing! If God hath emptied thee of thy carnal wisdom, he will fill thee with that which is heavenly; if he hath taught thee thine ignorance, he will teach thee his wisdom, and bring thee to himself; and if thou art taught to reject all thy knowings and findings-out, God will certainly reveal himself to thee.

There is one more hopeful sign in my text that I must mention. It is this, the person I have spoken of is quite careless where it is he finds Christ, so that he does find him. Do you know, beloved, that people, when they really feel the weight and the guilt of their sins, are the worst people in the world to sticker up for sects? Other men can fight with their fellow-creatures about various minor matters; but a poor awakened sinner says, "Lord, I will be glad to meet thee anywhere." When we have never seen ourselves to be sinners, we are the most respectable religionists in the world; we venerate every nail in the church or chapel door, and we would not have anyone differ from us on any point of doctrine or practice; but when we feel our sins, we say, "Lord, if I could find thee anywhere, I would be glad; if I could find thee at the Baptist meeting-house, if I could find thee in the Independent chapel, I should be glad enough to go there. I have always attended a large, handsome church; but if I could find thee in that little despised meeting-house, I should be glad to go there; though it would be degrading to my rank and respectability, there would I go to find my Savior." Some are foolish enough to think that they would rather not have Christ, if he goes anywhere except to their own church; they must keep to their own sect, and can by no means overstep the line.

It is a marvellous thing, but I believe I only describe the experience of many whom I am now addressing, when I say that there are very few of you who were brought to know the Lord where you were in the habit of attending. You have perhaps worshipped there since you were converted; but it was not your father's church, not the place where you were born and bred, but some other into which you strayed for a time, where the King's arrows stuck fast in your heart. I know it was so with me; I never thought of going to the chapel where I was first brought to know the Lord, but it snowed so hard that I could not go to my ordinary place of worship, so I was obliged to go to the little Primitive Methodist meeting; and when I got in, the preacher read his text: "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth." It was a blessed text, and it was blessedly applied to my soul; but if there had been any stickling as to going into other places, I should not have been there. So the awakened sinner says, "' Oh that I knew where I might hand him! ' Only let me know where Christ is to be found; let the minister be the most despised in the world, I will go and hear him; let the sect to which he belongs be the most calumniated and slandered, there I will be found seeking him. If I can but find Christ, I will be content to meet him anywhere." If divers can go into the deeps to bring up pearls, we should not be ashamed sometimes to dive deep to bring up precious jewels of grace. Men will do anything to get gold; they will world in the most muddy streams, or under the most scorching sun; surely, then, we ought not to mind how much we stoop, if we find that which is more precious than gold and silver, even "Jesus Christ and him crucified." Is this also thy feeling? Then, beloved, I have not only a hope of thee, but I have a certainty concerning thee; if thou art brought to cry out, in all the senses I have mentioned, "Oh that I knew where I might God him!" then, assuredly, the Lord hath begun a good work in thee, and he will carry it on even unto the end.

II. But now, for my second point, I SHALL ENDEAVOR TO GIVE SOME REASONS WHY IT IS THAT A GRACIOUS GOD DELAYS AN ANSWER TO THE PRAYER OF PENITENT SINNERS.

Methinks I hear someone asking, "How is it that God does not give a man comfort as soon as he repents? Why is it that the Lord makes some of his people wait in bondage when they are longing for liberty?"

In the first place, it is to display his own sovereignty. Ah! that is a word that is not often mentioned in pulpits. Divine sovereignty is a very unfashionable doctrine. Few people care to hear of a God who doeth as he pleaseth, who is absolute monarch over man, who knoweth of no law but his own will, which is always the will to do that which is right, to do good to those whom he hath ordained unto eternal life, and to scatter mercy lavishly upon all his creatures. But we assert that there is such a thing as divine sovereignty, and more especially in the work of salvation. God seems to me to argue thus, " If I gave to all men peace so soon as they asked for it, they would begin to think they had a right to it. Now, I will make some of them wait, so that they may see that the mercy is absolutely in my hand; and that, if I chose to withhold it altogether, I might do so most justly; and so I will make men see that it is a gift of my free grace, and not of their own deserving." In some of our squares, where the owners are anxious to keep the right of way in their own hands, they sometimes shut the gates, not because they would inconvenience us, but because they would have the public see that, although they let them through, yet they have no right of way, and might be excluded if the proprietors pleased. So is it with God: he says, "Man, if I eave thee, it is entirely of my own will and pleasure; my grace I give, not because thou deservest it, for then it were no grace at all; but I give it to the moat undeserving of men, that I may maintain my right to dispense it as I please." And I take it that this is the best way of proving God's sovereignty, namely, his making delay between penitence and faith, or between penitence and that faith which brings peace with God and joy in the Holy Ghost. I think that is one very important reason.

But there is another. God sometimes delayeth manifesting his forgiving mercy to men, in order that they may find out some secret sin. There is something hidden in their hearts of which they do not know. They come to God confessing their sins, and they think they have make a clean breast of all their transgressions. "Nay," saith God, "I will not give you pardon yet, or I will not at present apply it to your conscience; there is a secret sin you have not yet discovered;" and he sets the heart to examine itself again, as Jerusalem is searched with candles, and, lo! there is some iniquity dragged out from the corner in which it was hidden. Conscience says, "I never knew of this sin before; I never felt it to be a sin; Lord, I repeat of it; wilt thou not forgive me?" "Ah!" saith the mighty Maker, "now I have proved thee, and tried thee, and cast out this dross, I will speak to thee the word of consolation and comfort." Art thou, then, a mourner, seeking rest, and not finding it? I beseech thee, look into thine heart once more. Perhaps there is some hidden lust there, some secret sin; if so, turn the traitor out. Then will the Holy Spirit come and dwell in thy soul, and give unto thee "the peace of God which passeth all understanding."

Another reason why God delayeth his mercy is, that he may make us more useful in after life. A Christian man is never made thoroughly useful until he has passed through suffering; I do not think there is much good done by a man who has never been afflicted. We must first prove in our own hearts and lives the truths we are afterwards to preach, or we shall never preach them with effect; and if we are private Christians, we can never be of much use to our fellow-men unless we have passed through trials similar to those which they have had to endure. So God makes some of his people wait a long time before he gives them the manifestation of their pardon, in order that, in after days, they may comfort others. The Lord is saying, to many a tried soul," I need thee t o be a consolation to others; therefore I will make thee full of grief, and drunken with wormwood, so that, when thou shalt, in after years, meet with the mourner, thou mayest say to him, 'I have suffered and endured the same trial that thou art passing through. '" There are none so fit to comfort others as those who have once needed comfort themselves. Then take heart, poor afflicted one, perhaps the Lord designs thee for a great work. He is keeping thee low in bondage, and doubt, and fear, that he may bring thee out more clearly, and make thy light like the light of seven days, and bring forth thy righteous' ebs "fair as the moor, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners." Wait, then, with patience, for God intends good to thee, and good to others through thee, by this delay.

But the delay often arises not so much from God, as from ourselves. It is ignorance of the way of salvation which keeps many a man longer in doubt than he would be if he knew more about it. I do not hesitate to alarm that one of the hardest things for a sinner to understand is the way of salvation, It seems the plainest thing in all the world; nothing appears more simple than "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." But when the sinner is led to feel himself a sinner, he finds it not so easy to understand as he thought. We tell a man that with all their blackness, sinners may be pardoned; that, with all their sins, they can be forgiven freely for Christ's sake. "But," says the man when he feels himself to be black, "do you mean to tell me that I am to be made whiter than snow? Do you really mean that I, who am lost, am to be saved, not through anything I do, or hope to do, but purely through what Another did ?" He can hardly believe it possible; he will have it that he must do something; he must do this, or that, or the other, to help Christ; and the hardest thing in the world is to bring a man to see that salvation is of the Lord alone, and not at all of himself; that it is God's free and perfect gift, which leaves nothing of ours to be added to it, but is given to us to cover us completely, from head to foot, without anything of our own. Men will conceive what God would not have them imagine, and they will not receive that which God would have them embrace. It may be very easy to talk of certain cures, and to read of them; we may say, "Such-and-such a medicine is very effective, and will work such-and-such a cure;" but when we are ourselves sick, we are often very dubious about the medicine; and if, having taken draught after draught of it, we find that it does not help us, perhaps we are brought to think that, though it may cure others, it cannot cure us, because there has been such delay in its operation. So the poor soul thinks of the gospel, "Certainly it cannot heal me;" and then he misunderstands the nature of the sacred medicine altogether, and begins to take the law instead of the gospel. Now the law never saved anyone yet, though it has condemned full many in its time, and will condemn us all unless we receive the gospel.

If any man here should be in doubt on account of ignorance, let me, as plainly as I can, state the gospel. I believe it to be wrapped up in one word, Substitution. I have always considered, with Luther and Calvin, that the sum and substance of the gospel lies in that word, Substitution, Christ standing in the stead of man. If I understand the gospel, it is this: I deserve to be lost and ruined; the only reason why I should not be damned is this, that Christ was punished in my stead, and there is no need to execute a sentence twice for the same sin. On the other hand, I know that I cannot enter heaven unless I have a perfect righteousness; I am absolutely certain I shall never have one of my own, for I find that I sin every day; but then Christ had a perfect righteousness, and he said, "There, take my garment, put it on; you shall stand before God as if you were Christ, and I will stand before God as if I had been the sinner; I will suffer in the sinner's stead, and you shall be rewarded for works which you did not do, but which I did for you." I think the whole substance of salvation lies in the thought that Christ stood in the place of man. The prisoner is in the dock, he is about to be taken away to death; he deserves to die, for he has been a great criminal. But before he is removed, the judge asks whether there is any possible plan whereby the prisoner's life can be spared. Up rises one who is himself pure and perfect, and has known no sin, and by the allowance of the judge, for that is necessary, he steps into the dock, and says, "Consider me to be the prisoner; pass the sentence on me, and let me die. Reckon the prisoner to be myself. I have fought for my country; I have deserved a reward for what I have done; reward him as if he had done good, and punish me as if I had committed the sin." You say, "Such a thing could not occur in an earthly court of law." No, but it has happened in God's court of law, in the great court of King's Bench where God is the Judge of all, it has happened. The Savior said, "The sinner deserves to die; let me die in his stead, and let him be clothed in my righteousness."

To illustrate this, I will give you two instances. One is that of an ancient King, who enacted a law against a certain crime, and the punishment of anyone who committed the crime was, that he should have both his eyes put out. His own son committed the crime. The king, as a strict judge, said, "I cannot alter the law; I have said that the loss of two eyes shall be the penalty; take out one of mine and one of his." So, you see, he strictly carried out the law; but, at the same time, he was able to have mercy in part upon his son. But the case of Christ goes further than that; he did not say, "Exact half the penalty of me, and half of the sinner;" he said, "Put both my eyes out; nail me to the tree; let me die; let me take all the guilt away, and then the sinner may go free." We have heard of another case, that of two brothers, one of whom had been a great criminal, and was about to die, when his brother, coming into the court, decorated with medals, and having many wounds upon him, rose up to plead with the judge, that he would have mercy on the criminal for his sake. Then he began to strip himself, and show his scars,--how here and there on his big broad chest he had received sabre cuts in defense of his country. "By these wounds," he said, and he lifted up one arm, the other having been cut away, " by these my wounds, and the sufferings I have endured for my country, I beseech thee, have mercy on him." For his brother's sake, the criminal was allowed to escape the punishment that was hanging over his head. It was even so with Christ. "The sinner," he said, "deserves to die; then I will die in his stead. He deserves not to enter heaven, for he has not kept the law; but I have kept the law for him, he shall have my righteousness, and I will take his sin; and so the Just shall die for the unjust, to bring him to God."

In the first place, let me say, Go wherever Christ goes. If Christ were to walk this earth again, and heal the sick, as he did when he was here before, many sick people would enquire, "Where will Christ be tomorrow?" and, as soon as they found out where he would take his walks abroad, there they would be lying on the pavement, in the hope that, as he passed by, he would heal them. Go up, then, sick soul, to Christ's house; it is there that he meets with his people. Read his Word; it is there that he blesses them by applying sweet promises to them. Observe his ordinances; do not neglect them. Christ comes to Bethesda pool; so lie by the water, and wait till he arrives. If you cannot put in your foot, be where Christ comes. Thomas did not get the blessing, for he was not with the other disciples when the Master came to them. Stay not away from the house of God, poor seeking soul; be there whenever the doors are opened, so that, when Jesus passes by, he may haply look on thee, and say, "Thy sins are forgiven thee."

And whatever else you do, when Christ passes by, cry after him with all your might; never be satisfied until you make him stop; and if he should. frown on you, seemingly, for the moment, do not be silenced or stayed. If you are a little stirred by a sermon, pray over it; do not lose the auspicious moment. If you hear anything read which gives you some hope, lift up your heart in prayer at once. When the wind blows, then should the sails be set; and it may happen that God will give you grace to reach the harbour's mouth, and you may find the haven of perpetual rest. There was a man who was born blind, and who longed to have his sight. As he sat by the roadway,, one day, he was told that Jesus was passing by; and when he heard that, he cried after him, "Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me." The people wanted to hear Chris t preach, so they tried to hush the poor man; but he cried again, "Thou Son of David, have mercy on me." The Son of David turned not his head; he did not look upon the man, but continued his discourse; yet still the man shouted, "Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me." And then Jesus stopped. The disciples ran to the poor man, and said, "Be still, trouble not the Master;" but he cried so much the more, "Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me." And Jesus at last asked him, "What wilt thou that I should do unto thee?" He answered, "Lord, that I might receive my sight." He received it, "and followed Jesus in the way." Perhaps your doubts say to you, "Hush! do not pray any more;" or Satan says, "Be still; do not cry to Christ any more." Tell your doubts and fears, and the devil, too, that you will give Christ no rest till he turns his eyes upon you in love, and heals your diseases. Cry aloud unto him, O thou awakened sinner, when he is passing by!

The next piece of advice I would give you is this, think very much of Christ No way that I know of will bring you faith in Christ so well as thinking of him. I would advise you, conscience-stricken sinner, to spend an hour in meditation on Christ. You do not need to devote that time to meditation on yourself; you will get very little good from that; you may know beforehand that there is no hope for you in yourself; but spend an hour in meditation on Christ. Go, beloved, to thy most private place of seclusion, sit down, and picture Christ in the garden; think you see him there, sweating as it were great drops of blood, falling down to the ground. Then view him standing in Pilate's hall; behold him with his hands bound, his back streaming with blood; then follow him till you see him coming to the hill called Calvary; think you see him hurled backwards, and nailed to the tree; then lot your imagination, or rather your faith, bring before you the cross lifted up, and dashed into its socket, when every bone of Christ was put out of joint. Look at him; look at his thorn-crown, and watch the beaded drops of blood trickling down his cheek.

See from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown! His dying crimson, like a robe, Spreads o'er his body on the tree, Then am I dead to all the globe, And all the globe is dead to me.

I know of no means, under God, so profitable for producing faith, as thinking of Christ; for whilst you are looking at him, you will say, "Blessed Jesus, didst thou die for sinners? Then, surely, my soul, his death is sufficient for thee." He is able to save unto the uttermost all those who trust in him. You may think of a doctrine for ever, and get no good from it, if you are not already saved; but think of the person of Christ, and specially of his death, for that will bring you faith. Think of him everywhere, wherever you go; try to meditate on him in all your leisure moments, and then he will reveal himself to you, and give you peace.

None of us, not even the best of Christians, think and say enough of Christ. I went into a friend's house, one day, and he said to me, as a sort of hint, I suppose, "I have known So -and-so these thirty years, without hearing anything of his religion." I said, "You will not know me thirty minutes without hearing something of mine." It is a fact that many Christian people spend their Sunday afternoons in talking about other subjects, and Jesus Christ is scarcely ever mentioned. As for poor ungodly worldlings, of course they neither say nor think anything of him; but oh, thou that knowest thyself to be a sinner, despise not the Man of sorrows! Let his bleeding hands drop on thee; look thou on his pierced side; and, looking, thou shalt live; for, remember, it is only by looking to Christ that we shall be saved, not by doing anything ourselves.

This brings me to close by saying to every awakened sinner,--If you would have peace with God, and have it now, century on Christ. We must venture on Christ, and venture wholly, or else we never can be saved; yet it is hardly right to say venture, for it is no venture; there is not a grain of haphazard in it. He that trusteth himself to Christ need never fear. "But," someone asks, "how am I t o trust Christ? What do you mean by trusting in Christ?" Why, I mean just what I say; fully rely on what Christ did for the salvation of sinners. A negro, when he was asked how he believed, said, "Massa, dis is how I believe; I fall flat down on de promise , I can't fall no lower." He had just the right idea about believing in Jesus. Believing is falling down on Christ, and looking to him to hold, you up. I will illustrate it by an anecdote which I have often told. A boy at sea who was very fond of mounting to the masthead, one day climbed to the maintop, and could not get down again. The sea was very rough, and it was seen that, in a little while, the boy would fall on the deck, and be dashed to pieces. His father saw but one way of saving his life. Seizing a speaking-trumpet, he shouted, "Boy, the next time the ship lurches, drop into the sea." The next time the ship lurched, the boy looked down, and, not at all liking the idea of throwing himself into the sea, still clung to the mast. The father, who saw that the boy's strength would soon fail him, took a gun in his hand, and cried out, "Boy, if you don't drop into the sea the next time the ship lurches, I'll shoot you!" The boy knew his father meant it, and the next time the ship lurched, he leaped into the sea. It seemed liked certain destruction, but out went a dozen brawny arms, and he was saved. The sinner, in the midst of the storm, thinks he must cling to the mast of his good works, and so be saved. Says the gospel, "Let go your own works, and drop into the ocean of God's grace." "No," says the sinner, "it is a long way between me and God's grace; I must perish if I trust to that; I must have some other reliance." "If you have any other reliance than that, you are lost." Up comes the thundering law, and declares to the sinner that, unless he does give up every dependence, he will be lost. Then follows the happy moment when the sinner says, "Dear Lord, I give up all my dependence, and cast myself on thee; I take thee, Jesus, to be my one object in life, my only trust, the refuge of my soul." Can any of you say that in your hearts? I know there are some of you who can; but are there any who could not say it when they came here, but who can say it now? Oh, I would rejoice if one such were brought to God! I am conscious that I have not preached to you as I could desire; but if one such has been brought to believe and trust in the Savior, I rejoice, for thereby God will be glorified.

But, alas! for such of you as will go away and say, "The man has talked about salvation, but what matters it to us?" You think you can afford to laugh to day at God and his gospel; but remember, men cannot afford to despise boats when their vessel is going down in a storm, although they may do so on land. Death is after you, and will soon seize you; your pulse must soon cease to beat; strong as you are now, your bones are not made of brass, nor are your ribs of steel. Sooner or later, you must lie on your lowly pallet, and there breathe out your last; or, if you be ever so rich, you must die on your curtained beds, and must depart from all your enjoyment into everlasting punishment. You will find it hard work to laugh at Christ then; you will find it dreadful work to scoff at religion then, in that day when death gets hold of you, and asks, "Will you laugh now, scour?" "Ah!" you will say, "I find it different from what I supposed; I cannot laugh now death is near me." Take warning, then, before death comes; take warning! He must be a poor ignorant man who does not insure his house before it is on fire; and he must be the greatest of fools who thinks it unnecessary to seek the salvation of his soul till he comes to the last moment, and is in peril of his life. May God give you thought and consideration, so that you may be led to flee from sin, and fly to Jesus; and may God the everlasting Father give you what I cannot,--his grace, which saveth the soul, and maketh sinners into saints, and landeth them in heaven! I can only close by repeating the words of the gospel, "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned." Having said this, if I had said no more, I should' have preached Christ's gospel to you. The Lord give you understanding in all things, and help you to believe; for Jesus Christ's sake! Amen.

Spurgeon's Verse Expositions of the Bible

Order and Argument in Prayer

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A Sermon

(No. 700)

Delivered on Sunday Morning, July 15th, 1866, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

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"Oh that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat! I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments." Job 23:3 ,Job 23:4

In Job's uttermost extremity he cried after the Lord. The longing desire of an afflicted child of God is once more to see his Father's face. His first prayer is not, "Oh that I might be healed of the disease which now festers in every part of my body!" nor even, "Oh that I might see my children restored from the jaws of the grave, and my property once more brought from the hand of the spoiler!" but the first and uppermost cry is, "Oh that I knew where I might find HIM who is my God! that I might come even to his seat!" God's children run home when the storm comes on. It is the heaven-born instinct of a gracious soul to seek shelter from all ills beneath the wings of Jehovah. "He that hath made his refuge God," might serve as the title of a true believer. A hypocrite, when he feels that he has been afflicted by God, resents the infliction, and, like a slave, would run from the master who has scourged him; but not so the true heir of heaven, he kisses the hand which smote him, and seeks shelter from the rod in the bosom of that very God who frowned upon him. You will observe that the desire to commune with God is intensified by the failure of all other sources of consolation. When Job first saw his friends at a distance, he may have entertained a hope that their kindly counsel and compassionate tenderness would blunt the edge of his grief; but they had not long spoken before he cried out in bitterness, "Miserable comforters are ye all." They put salt into his wounds, they heaped fuel upon the flame of his sorrow, they added the gall of their upbraidings to the wormwood of his griefs. In the sunshine of his smile they once had longed to sun themselves, and now they dare to cast shadows upon his reputation, most ungenerous and undeserved. Alas for a man when his wine-cup mocks him with vinegar, and his pillow pricks him with thorns! The patriarch turned away from his sorry friends and looked up to the celestial throne, just as a traveller turns from his empty skin bottle and betakes himself with all speed to the well. He bids farewell to earthborn hopes, and cries, "Oh that I knew where I might find my God!" My brethren, nothing teaches us so much the preciousness of the Creator as when we learn the emptiness of all besides. When you have been pierced through and through with the sentence, "Cursed is he that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm," then will you suck unutterable sweetness from the divine assurance, "Blessed is he that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is." Turning away with bitter scorn from earth's hives, where you found no honey, but many sharp stings, you will rejoice in him whose faithful word is sweeter than honey or the honeycomb.

It is further observable that though a good man hastens to God in his trouble, and runs with all the more speed because of the unkindness of his fellow men, yet sometimes the gracious soul is left without the comfortable presence of God. This is the worst of all griefs; the text is one of Job's deep groans, far deeper than any which came from him on account of the loss of his children and his property: "Oh that I knew where I might find HIM!" The worst of all losses is to lose the smile of my God. He now had a foretaste of the bitterness of his Redeemer's cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" God's presence is always with his people in one sense, so far as secretly sustaining them is concerned, but his manifest presence they do not always enjoy. Like the spouse in the song, they seek their beloved by night upon their bed, they seek him but they find him not; and though they wake and roam through the city they may not discover him, and the question may be sadly asked again and again, "Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?" You may be beloved of God, and yet have no consciousness of that love in your soul. You may be as dear to his heart as Jesus Christ himself, and yet for a small moment he may forsake you, and in a little wrath he may hide himself from you. But, dear friends, at such times the desire of the believing soul gathers yet greater intensity from the fact of God's light being withheld. Instead of saying with proud lip, "Well, if he leaveth me I must do without him; if I cannot have his comfortable presence I must fight on as best may be," the soul saith, "No, it is my very life; I must have my God. I perish, I sink in deep mire where there is no standing, and nothing but the arm of God can deliver me." The gracious soul addresseth itself with a double zeal to find out God, and sends up its groans, its entreaties, its sobs and sighs to heaven more frequently and fervently. "Oh that I knew where I might find him!" Distance or labour are as nothing; if the soul only knew where to go she would soon overleap the distance. She makes no stipulation about mountains or rivers, but vows that if she knew where, she would come even to his seat. My soul in her hunger would break through stone walls, or scale the battlements of heaven to reach her God, and though there were seven hells between me and him, yet would I face the flame if I might reach him, nothing daunted if I had but the prospect of at last standing in his presence and feeling the delight of his love. That seems to me to be the state of mind in which Job pronounced the words before us.

But we cannot stop upon this point, for the object of this morning's discourse beckons us onward. It appears that Job's end, in desiring the presence of God, was that he might pray to him. He had prayed, but he wanted to pray as in God's presence. He desired to plead as before one whom he knew would hear and help him. He longed to state his own case before the seat of the impartial Judge, before the very face of the all-wise God; he would appeal from the lower courts, where his friends judged unrighteous judgment, to the Court of King's Bench the High Court of heaven there, saith he, "I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments."

In this latter verse Job teaches us how he meant to plead and intercede with God. He does, as it were, reveal the secrets of his closet, and unveils the art of prayer. We are here admitted into the guild of suppliants; we are shown the art and mystery of pleading; we have here taught to us the blessed handicraft and science of prayer, and if we can be bound apprentice to Job this morning, for the next hour, and can have a lesson from Job's Master, we may acquire no little skill in interceding with God.

There are two things here set forth as necessary in prayer ordering of our cause, and filling our mouth with arguments. We shall speak of those two things, and then if we have rightly learned the lesson, a blessed result will follow.

I. First, IT IS NEEDFUL THAT OUR SUIT BE ORDERED BEFORE GOD.

There is a vulgar notion that prayer is a very easy thing, a kind of common business that may be done anyhow, without care or effort. Some think that you have only to reach a book down and get through a certain number of very excellent words, and you have prayed and may put the book up again; others suppose that to use a book is superstitious, and that you ought rather to repeat extemporaneous sentences, sentences which come to your mind with a rush, like a herd of swine or a pack of hounds, and that when you have uttered them with some little attention to what you have said, you have prayed. Now neither of these modes of prayer were adopted by ancient saints. They appear to have thought a great deal more seriously of prayer than many do now-a-days. It seems to have been a mighty business with them, a long-practised exercise, in which some of them attained great eminence, and were thereby singularly blest. They reaped great harvests in the field of prayer, and found the mercy seat to be a mine of untold treasures.

The ancient saints were wont, with Job, to order their cause before God; that is to say, as a petitioner coming into Court does not come there without thought to state his case on the spur of the moment, but enters into the audience chamber with his suit well prepared, having moreover learned how he ought to behave himself in the presence of the great One to whom he is appealing. It is well to approach the seat of the King of kings as much as possible with pre-meditation and preparation, knowing what we are about, where we are standing, and what it is which we desire to obtain. In times of peril and distress we may fly to God just as we are, as the dove enters the cleft of the rock, even though her plumes are ruffled; but in ordinary times we should not come with an unprepared spirit, even as a child comes not to his father in the morning till he has washed his face. See yonder priest; he has a sacrifice to offer, but he does not rush into the court of the priests and hack at the bullock with the first pole-axe upon which he can lay his hand, but when he rises he washes his feet at the brazen laver, he puts on his garments, and adorns himself with his priestly vestments; then he comes to the altar with his victim properly divided according to the law, and is careful to do according to the command, even to such a simple matter as the placing of the fat, and the liver, and the kidneys, and he taketh the blood in a bowl and poureth it in an appropriate place at the foot of the altar, not throwing it just as may occur to him, and kindles the fire not with common flame, but with the sacred fire from off the altar. Now this ritual is all superseded, but the truth which it taught remains the same; our spiritual sacrifices should be offered with holy carefulness. God forbid that our prayer should be a mere leaping out of one's bed and kneeling down, and saying anything that comes first to hand; on the contrary, may we wait upon the Lord with holy fear and sacred awe. See how David prayed when God had blessed him he went in before the Lord. Understand that; he did not stand outside at a distance, but he went in before the Lord and he sat down for sitting is not a bad posture for prayer, let who will speak against it and sitting down quietly and calmly before the Lord he then began to pray, but not until first he had thought over the divine goodness, and so attained to the spirit of prayer. Then by the assistance of the Holy Ghost did he open his mouth. Oh that we oftener sought the Lord in this style! Abraham may serve us as a pattern; he rose up early here was his willingness; he went three days journey here was his zeal; he left his servants at the foot of the hill here was his privacy; he carried the wood and the fire with him here was his preparation; and lastly, he built the altar and laid the wood in order, and then took the knife here was the devout carefulness of his worship. David puts it, "In the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up"; which I have frequently explained to you to mean that he marshalled his thoughts like men of war, or that he aimed his prayers like arrows. He did not take the arrow and put it on the bowstring and shoot, and shoot, and shoot anywhere; but after he had taken out the chosen shaft, and fitted it to the string, he took deliberate aim. He looked looked well at the white of the target; kept his eye fixed on it, directing his prayer, and then drew his bow with all his strength and let the arrow fly; and then, when the shaft had left his hand, what does he say? "I will look up." He looked up to see where the arrow went, to see what effect it had; for he expected an answer to his prayers, and was not as many who scarcely think of their prayers after they have uttered them. David knew that he had an engagement before him which required all his mental powers; he marshalled up his faculties and went about the work in a workmanlike manner, as one who believed in it and meant to succeed. We should plough carefully and pray carefully. The better the work the more attention it deserves. To be anxious in the shop and thoughtless in the closet is little less than blasphemy, for it is an insinuation that anything will do for God, but the world must have our best.

If any ask what order should be observed in prayer, I am not about to give you a scheme such as many have drawn out, in which adoration, confession, petition, intercession, and ascription are arranged in succession. I am not persuaded that any such order is of divine authority. It is to no mere mechanical order I have been referring, for our prayers will be equally acceptable, and possibly equally proper, in any form; for there are specimens of prayers, in all shapes, in the Old and New Testament. The true spiritual order of prayer seems to me to consist in something more than mere arrangement. It is most fitting for us first to feel that we are now doing something that is real; that we are about to address ourselves to God, whom we cannot see, but who is really present; whom we can neither touch nor hear, nor by our senses can apprehend, but who, nevertheless, is as truly with us as though we were speaking to a friend of flesh and blood like ourselves. Feeling the reality of God's presence, our mind will be led by divine grace into an humble state; we shall feel like Abraham, when he said, "I have taken upon myself to speak unto God, I that am but dust and ashes." Consequently we shall not deliver ourselves of our prayer as boys repeating their lessons, as a mere matter of rote, much less shall we speak as if we were rabbis instructing our pupils, or as I have heard some do, with the coarseness of a highwayman stopping a person on the road and demanding his purse of him; but we shall be humble yet bold petitioners, humbly importuning mercy through the Saviour's blood. We shall not have the reserve of a slave but the loving reverence of a child, yet not an impudent, impertinent child, but a teachable obedient child, honouring his Father, and therefore asking earnestly, but with deferential submission to his Father's will. When I feel that I am in the presence of God, and take my rightful position in that presence, the next thing I shall want to recognize will be that I have no right to what I am seeking, and cannot expect to obtain it except as a gift of grace, and I must recollect that God limits the channel through which he will give me mercy he will give it to me through his dear Son. Let me put myself then under the patronage of the great Redeemer. Let me feel that now it is no longer I that speak but Christ that speaketh with me, and that while I plead, I plead his wounds, his life, his death, his blood, himself. This is truly getting into order.

The next thing is to consider what I am to ask for? It is most proper in prayer, to aim at great distinctness of supplication. There is much reason to complain of some public prayers, that those who offer them do not really ask God for anything. I must acknowledge I fear to having so prayed myself, and certainly to having heard many prayers of the kind, in which I did not feel that anything was sought for from God a great deal of very excellent doctrinal and experimental matter uttered, but little real petitioning, and that little in a nebulous kind of state, chaotic and unformed. But it seems to me that prayer should be distinct, the asking for something definitely and distinctly because the mind has realized its distinct need of such a thing, and therefore must plead for it. It is well not to beat round the bush in prayer, but to come directly to the point. I like that prayer of Abraham's, "Oh that Ishmael might live before thee!" There is the name and the person prayed for, and the blessing desired, all put in a few words, "Ishmael might live before thee!" Many persons would have used a roundabout expression of this kind, "Oh that our beloved offspring might be regarded with the favour which thou bearest to those who," etc. Say "Ishmael," if you mean "Ishmael"; put it in plain words before the Lord. Some people cannot even pray for the minister without using such circular descriptives that you might think it were the parish beadle, or somebody whom it did not do to mention too particularly. Why not be distinct, and say what we mean as well as mean what we say? Ordering our cause would bring us to greater distinctness of mind. It is not necessary, my dear brethren, in the closet to ask for every supposable good thing; it is not necessary to rehearse the catalogue of every want that you may have, have had, can have, or shall have. Ask for what you now need, and, as a rule, keep to present need; ask for your daily bread what you want now ask for that. Ask for it plainly, as before God, who does not regard your fine expressions, and to whom your eloquence and oratory will be less than nothing and vanity. Thou art before the Lord; let thy words be few, but let thy heart be fervent.

You have not quite completed the ordering when you have asked for what you want through Jesus Christ. There should be a looking round the blessing which you desire, to see whether it is assuredly a fitting thing to ask; for some prayers would never be offered if men did but think. A little reflection would show to us that some things which we desire were better let alone. We may, moreover, have a motive at the bottom of our desire which is not Christ-like, a selfish motive, which forgets God's glory and caters only for our own case and comfort. Now although we may ask for things which are for our profit, yet still we must never let our profit interfere in any way with the glory of God. There must be mingled with acceptable prayer the holy salt of submission to the divine will. I like Luther's saying, "Lord, I will have my will of thee at this time." "What!" say you, "Like such an expression as that?" I do, because of the next clause, which was, "I will have my will, for I know that my will is thy will." That is well spoken, Luther; but without the last words it would have been wicked presumption. When we are sure that what we ask for is for God's glory, then, if we have power in prayer, we may say, "I will not let thee go except thou bless me": we may come to close dealings with God, and like Jacob with the angel we may even put it to the wrestle and seek to give the angel the fall sooner than be sent away without the benediction. But we must be quite clear, before we come to such terms as those, that what we are seeking is really for the Master's honour.

Put these three things together, the deep spirituality which recognises prayer as being real conversation with the invisible God much distinctness which is the reality of prayer, asking for what we know we want and withal much fervency, believing the thing to be necessary, and therefore resolving to obtain it if it can be had by prayer, and above all these complete submission, leaving it still with the Master's will; commingle all these, and you have a clear idea of what it is to order your cause before the Lord.

Still prayer itself is an art which only the Holy Ghost can teach us. He is the giver of all prayer. Pray for prayer pray till you can pray; pray to be helped to pray, and give not up praying because thou canst not pray, for it is when thou thinkest thou canst not pray that thou art most praying; and sometimes when thou hast no sort of comfort in thy supplications, it is then that thy heart all broken and cast down is really wrestling and truly prevailing with the Most High.

II. The second part of prayer is FILLING THE MOUTH WITH ARGUMENTS not filling the mouth with words nor good phrases, nor pretty expressions, but filling the mouth with arguments are the knocks of the rapper by which the gate is opened.

Why are arguments to be used at all? is the first enquiry; the reply being, Certainly not because God is slow to give, not because we can change the divine purpose, not because God needeth to be informed of any circumstance with regard to ourselves or of anything in connection with the mercy asked: the arguments to be used are for our own benefit, not for his. He requires for us to plead with him, and to bring forth our strong reasons, as Isaiah saith, because this will show that we feel the value of the mercy. When a man searches for arguments for a thing it is because he attaches importance to that which he is seeking. Again, our use of arguments teaches us the ground upon which we obtain the blessing. If a man should come with the argument of his own merit, he would never succeed; the successful argument is always founded upon grace, and hence the soul so pleading is made to understand intensely that it is by grace and by grace alone that a sinner obtaineth anything of the Lord. Besides, the use of arguments is intended to stir up our fervency. The man who uses one argument with God will get more force in using the next, and will use the next with still greater power, and the next with more force still. The best prayers I have ever heard in our prayer meetings have been those which have been fullest of argument. Sometimes my soul has been fairly melted down when I have listened to brethren who have come before God feeling the mercy to be really needed, and that they must have it, for they first pleaded with God to give it for this reason, and then for a second, and then for a third, and then for a fourth and a fifth, until they have awakened the fervency of the entire assembly. My brethren, there is no need for prayer at all as far as God is concerned, but what a need there is for it on our own account! If we were not constrained to pray, I question whether we could even live as Christians. If God's mercies came to us unasked, they would not be half so useful as they now are, when they have to be sought for; for now we get a double blessing, a blessing in the obtaining, and a blessing in the seeking. The very act of prayer is a blessing. To pray is as it were to bathe one's-self in a cool purling stream, and so to escape from the heats of earth's summer sun. To pray is to mount on eagle's wings above the clouds and get into the clear heaven where God dwelleth. To pray is to enter the treasure-house of God and to enrich one's-self out of an inexhaustible storehouse. To pray is to grasp heaven in one's arms, to embrace the Deity within one's soul, and to feel one's body made a temple of the Holy Ghost. Apart from the answer prayer is in itself a benediction. To pray, my brethren, is to cast off your burdens, it is to tear away your rags, it is to shake off your diseases, it is to be filled with spiritual vigour, it is to reach the highest point of Christian health. God give us to be much in the holy art of arguing with God in prayer.

The most interesting part of our subject remains; it is a very rapid summary and catalogue of a few of the arguments which have been used with great success with God. I cannot give you a full list; that would require a treatise such as Master John Owen might produce. It is well in prayer to plead with Jehovah his attributes. Abraham did so when he laid hold upon God's justice. Sodom was to be pleaded for, and Abraham begins, "Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city: wilt thou also destroy and not spare the place for the fifty righteous that are therein? that be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked: and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee: Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" Here the wrestling begins. It was a powerful argument by which the patriarch grasped the Lord's left hand, and arrested it just when the thunderbolt was about to fall. But there came a reply to it. It was intimated to him that this would not spare the city, and you notice how the good man, when sorely pressed, retreated by inches; and at last, when he could no longer lay hold upon justice, grasped God's right hand of mercy, and that gave him a wondrous hold when he asked that if there were but ten righteous there the city might be spared. So you and I may take hold at any time upon the justice, the mercy, the faithfulness, the wisdom, the long-suffering, the tenderness of God, and we shall find every attribute of the Most High to be, as it were, a great battering-ram, with which we may open the gates of heaven.

Another mighty piece of ordinance in the battle of prayer is God's promise. When Jacob was on the other side of the brook Jabbok, and his brother Esau was coming with armed men, he pleaded with God not to suffer Esau to destroy the mother and the children, and as a master reason he pleaded, "And thou saidst, surely I will do thee good." Oh the force of that plea! He was holding God to his word: "Thou saidst." The attribute is a splendid horn of the altar to lay hold upon; but the promise, which has in it the attribute and something more, is yet a mightier holdfast. "Thou saidst." Remember how David put it. After Nathan had spoken the promise, David said at the close of his prayer, "Do as thou hast said." That is a legitimate argument with every honest man, and has he said, and shall he not do it? "Let God be true, and every man a liar." Shall not he be true? Shall he not keep his word? Shall not every word that cometh out of his lips stand fast and be fulfilled? Solomon, at the opening of the temple, used this same mighty plea. He pleads with God to remember the word which he had spoken to his father David, and to bless that place. When a man gives a promissory note his honour is engaged. He signs his hand, and he must discharge it when the due time comes, or else he loses credit. It shall never be said that God dishonours his bills. The credit of the Most High never was impeached, and never shall be. He is punctual to the moment; he never is before his time, but he never is behind it. You shall search this Book through, and you shall compare it with the experience of God's people, and the two tally from the first to the last; and many a hoary patriarch has said with Joshua in his old age, "Not one good thing hath failed of all that the Lord God hath promised: all hath come to pass." My brother, if you have a divine promise, you need not plead it with an "if" in it; you may plead with a certainty. If for the mercy which you are now asking, you have God's solemnly pledged word, there will scarce be any room for the caution about submission to his will. You know his will: that will is in the promise; plead it. Do not give him rest until he fulfil it. He meant to fulfil it, or else he would not have given it. God does not give his words merely to quiet our noise, and to keep us hopeful for awhile, with the intention of putting us off at last; but when he speaks, he speaks because he means to act.

A third argument to be used is that employed by Moses, the great name of God. How mightily did he argue with God on one occasion upon this ground! "What wilt thou do for thy great name? The Egyptians will say, Because the Lord could not bring them into the land, therefore he slew them in the wilderness." There are some occasions when the name of God is very closely tied up with the history of his people. Sometimes in reliance upon a divine promise, a believer will be led to take a certain course of action. Now, if the Lord should not be as good as his promise, not only is the believer deceived, but the wicked world looking on would say, "Aha! aha! Where is your God?" Take the case of our respected brother, Mr. Muller, of Bristol. These many years he has declared that God hears prayer, and firm in that conviction, he has gone on to build house after house for the maintenance of orphans. Now, I can very well conceive that, if he were driven to a point of want of means for the maintenance of those thousand or two thousand children, he might very well use the plea, "What wilt thou do for thy great name?" And you, in some severe trouble, when you have fairly received the promise, may say, "Lord, thou hast said, 'In six troubles I will be with thee, and in seven I will not forsake thee.' I have told my friends and neighbours that I put my trust in thee, and if thou do not deliver me now, where is thy name? Arise, O God, and do this thing, lest thy honour be cast into the dust." Coupled with this, we may employ the further argument of the hard things said by the revilers. It was well done of Hezekiah, when he took Rabshakeh's letter and spread it before the Lord. Will that help him? It is full of blasphemy, will that help him? "Where are the gods of Arphad and Sepharvaim? Where are the gods of the cities which I have overthrown? Let not Hezekiah deceive you, saying that Jehovah will deliver you." Does that have any effect? Oh! yes, it was a blessed thing that Rabshakeh wrote that letter, for it provoked the Lord to help his people. Sometimes the child of God can rejoice when he sees his enemies get thoroughly out of temper and take to reviling. "Now," he says, "they have reviled the Lord himself; not me alone have they assailed, but the Most High himself. Now it is no longer the poor insignificant Hezekiah with his little band of soldiers, but it is Jehovah, the King of angels, who has come to fight against Rabshakeh. Now what wilt thou do, O boastful soldier of proud Sennacherib? Shalt not thou be utterly destroyed, since Jehovah himself has come into the fray? All the progress that is made by Popery, all the wrong things said by speculative atheists and so on, should be by Christians used as an argument with God, why he should help the gospel. Lord; see how they reproach the gospel of Jesus! Pluck thy right hand out of thy bosom! O God, they defy thee! Anti-christ thrusts itself into the place where thy Son once was honoured, and from the very pulpits where the gospel was once preached Popery is now declared. Arise, O God, wake up thy zeal, let thy sacred passions burn! Thine ancient foe again prevails. Behold the harlot of Babylon once more upon her scarlet-coloured beast rides forth in triumph! Come, Jehovah, come, Jehovah, and once again show what thy bare arm can do! This is a legitimate mode of pleading with God, for his great name's sake.

So also may we plead the sorrows of his people. This is frequently done. Jeremiah is the great master of this art. He says, "Her Nazarites were purer than snow, they were whiter than milk, they were more ruddy in body than rubies, their polishing was of sapphire: their visage is blacker than a coal." "The precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold, how are they esteemed as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter!" He talks of all their griefs and straitnesses in the siege. He calls upon the Lord to look upon his suffering Zion; and ere long his plaintive cries are heard. Nothing so eloquent with the father as his child's cry; yes, there is one thing more mighty still, and that is a moan, when the child is so sick that it is past crying, and lies moaning with that kind of moan which indicates extreme suffering and intense weakness. Who can resist that moan? Ah! and when God's Israel shall be brought very low so that they can scarcely cry but only their moans are heard, then comes the Lord's time of deliverance, and he is sure to show that he loveth his people. Dear friends, whenever you also are brought into the same condition you may plead your moanings, and when you see a church brought very low you may use her griefs as an argument why God should return and save the remnant of his people.

Brethren, it is good to plead with God the past. Ah, you experienced people of God, you know how to do this. Here is David's specimen of it: "Thou hast been my help. Leave me not, neither forsake me." He pleads God's mercy to him from his youth up. He speaks of being cast upon his God from his very birth, and then he pleads, "Now also, when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not." Moses also, speaking with God, says, "Thou didst bring this people up out of Egypt." As if he would say, "Do not leave thy work unfinished; thou hast begun to build, complete it. Thou hast fought the first battle; Lord, end the campaign! Go on till thou gettest a complete victory." How often have we cried in our trouble, "Lord, thou didst deliver me in such and such a sharp trial, when it seemed as if no help were near; thou hast never forsaken me yet. I have set up my Ebenezer in thy name. If thou hadst intended to leave me why hast thou showed me such things? Hast thou brought thy servant to this place to put him to shame?" Brethren, we have to deal with an unchanging God, who will do in the future what he has done in the past, because he never turns from his purpose, and cannot be thwarted in his design; the past thus becomes a very mighty means of winning blessings from him.

We may even use our own unworthiness as an argument with God. "Out of the eater comes forth meat, and out of the strong comes forth sweetness." David in one place pleads thus: "Lord, have mercy upon mine iniquity, for it is great." That is a very singular mode of reasoning; but being interpreted it means, "Lord, why shouldest thou go about doing little things? Thou art a great God, and here is a great sinner. Here is a fitness in me for the display of thy grace. The greatness of my sin makes me a platform for the greatness of thy mercy. Let the greatness of thy love be seen in me." Moses seems to have the same on his mind when he asks God to show his great power in sparing his sinful people. The power with which God restrains himself is great indeed. O brothers and sisters, there is such a thing as creeping down at the foot of the throne, crouching low and crying, "O God, break me not I am a bruised reed. Oh! tread not on my little life, it is now but as the smoking flax. Wilt thou hunt me? Wilt thou come out, as David said, "after a dead dog, after a flea?" Wilt thou pursue me as a leaf that is blown in the tempest? Wilt thou watch me, as Job saith, as though I were a vast sea, or a great whale? Nay, but because I am so little, and because the greatness of thy mercy can be shown in one so insignificant and yet so vile, therefore, O God, have mercy upon me."

There was once an occasion when the very Godhead of Jehovah made a triumphant plea for the prophet Elijah. On that august occasion, when he had bidden his adversaries see whether their god could answer them by fire, you can little guess the excitement there must have been that day in the prophet's mind. With what stern sarcasm did he say, "Cry aloud: for he is a god; either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awakened." And as they cut themselves with knives, and leaped upon the altar, oh the scorn with which that man of God must have looked down upon their impotent exertions, and their earnest but useless cries! But think of how his heart must have palpitated, if it had not been for the strength of his faith, when he repaired the altar of God that was broken down, and laid the wood in order, and killed the bullock. Hear him cry, "Pour water on it. You shall not suspect me of concealing fire; pour water on the victim." When they had done so, he bids them, "Do it a second time"; and they did it a second time; and then he says, "Do it a third time." And when it was all covered with water, soaked and saturated through, then he stands up and cries to God, "O God, let it be known that thou only art God." Here everything was put to the test. Jehovah's own existence was now put, as it were, at stake, before the eyes of men by this bold prophet. But how well the prophet was heard! Down came the fire and devoured not only the sacrifice, but even the wood, and the stones, and even the very water that was in the trenches, for Jehovah God had answered his servant's prayer. We sometimes may do the same, and say unto him, "Oh, by thy Deity, by thine existence, if indeed thou be God, now show thyself for the help of thy people!"

Lastly, the grand Christian argument is the sufferings, the death, the merit, the intercession of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I am afraid we do not understand what it is that we have at our command when we are allowed to plead with God for Christ's sake. I met with this thought the other day: it was somewhat new to me, but I believe it ought not to have been. When we ask God to hear us, pleading Christ's name, we usually mean, "O Lord, thy dear Son deserves this of thee; do this unto me because of what he merits." But if we knew it we might go in the city, "Sir, call at my office, and use my name, and say that they are to give you such a thing." I should go in and use your name, and I should obtain my request as a matter of right and a matter of necessity. This is virtually what Jesus Christ says to us. "If you need anything of God, all that the Father has belongs to me; go and use my name." Suppose you should give a man your cheque-book signed with your own name and left blank, to be filled up as he chose; that would be very nearly what Jesus has done in these words, "If ye ask anything in my name, I will give it you." If I had a good name at the bottom of the cheque, I should be sure that I should get it cashed when I went to the banker with it; so when you have got Christ's name, to whom the very justice of God hath become a debtor, and whose merits have claims with the Most High, when you have Christ's name there is no need to speak with fear and trembling and bated breath. Oh, waver not and let not faith stagger! When thou pleadest the name of Christ thou pleadest that which shakes the gates of hell, and which the hosts of heaven obey, and God himself feels the sacred power of that divine plea.

Brethren, you would do better if you sometimes thought more in your prayers of Christ's griefs and groans. Bring before the Lord his wounds, tell the Lord of his cries, make the groans of Jesus cry again from Gethsemane, and his blood speak again from that frozen Calvary. Speak out and tell the Lord that with such griefs, and cries, and groans to plead, thou canst not take a denial: such arguments as these will speed you.

III. If the Holy Ghost shall teach us how to order our cause, and how to fill our mouth with arguments, the result shall be that WE SHALL HAVE OUR MOUTH FILLED WITH PRAISES. The man who has his mouth full of arguments in prayer shall soon have his mouth full of benedictions in answer to prayer. Dear friend, thou hast thy mouth full this morning, has thou? What of? Full of complaining? Pray the Lord to rinse thy mouth out of that black stuff, for it will little avail thee, and it will be bitter in thy bowels one of these days. Oh, have thy mouth full of prayer, full of it, full of arguments so that there is room for nothing else. Then come with this blessed mouthful, and you shall soon go away with whatsoever you have asked of God. Only delight thou thyself in him, and he will give thee the desire of thy heart.

It is said I know not how truly that the explanation of the text, "Open thy mouth wide and I will fill it," may be found in a very singular Oriental custom. It is said that not many years ago I remember the circumstance being reported the King of Persia ordered the chief of his nobility, who had done something or other which greatly gratified him, to open his mouth, and when he had done so he began to put into his mouth pearls, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, till he had filled it as full as it could hold, and then he bade him go his way. This is said to have been occasionally done in Oriental Courts towards great favourites. Now certainly whether that be an explanation of the text or not it is an illustration of it. God says, "Open thy mouth with arguments," and then he will fill it with mercies priceless, gems unspeakably valuable. Would not a man open his mouth wide when he had to have it filled in such a style? Surely the most simple-minded among you would be wise enough for that. Oh! let us then open wide our mouth when we have to plead with God. Our needs are great, let our askings be great, and the supply shall be great too. You are not straitened in him; you are straitened in your own bowels. The Lord give you large mouths in prayer, great potency, not in the use of language, but in employing arguments.

What I have been speaking to the Christian is applicable in great measure to the unconverted man. God give thee to see the force of it, and to fly in humble prayer to the Lord Jesus Christ and to find eternal life in him.

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PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON Numbers 14:1-21 .