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"BROUGHT
UP FROM THE HORRIBLE PIT."
Charles
H. Spurgeon
DELIVERED
ON LORD’S-DAY MORNING, AUGUST 13TH,
1882.
"I waited patiently for the Lord: and he
inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up
also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and
set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.
And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise
unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall
trust in the Lord." — Psalm xl. 1—3.
THIS passage
has been used with great frequency as the expression
of the experience of the people of God, and I think it
has been very rightly so used. It is a very accurate
picture of the way in which sinners are raised up from
despair to hope and salvation, and of the way in which
saints are brought out of deep troubles, and made to
sing of divine love and power. Yet I am not certain
that the first verse could be truthfully uttered by
all of us; I question, indeed, whether any of us could
thus speak. Could we say,— "I waited patiently
for the Lord." Think ye, brethren, might it not
read,— "I waited impatiently for the Lord," in
the case of most of us? All the rest may stand true,
but this would need to be modified. We could hardly
speak in our own commendation if we considered our
conduct in the matter of patience, for that is, alas,
still a scarce virtue upon the face of the earth. If
we read the psalm through we shall see that it was not
written exclusively to describe she. experience of
God’s people. Secondarily we may regard it as
David’s language, but in the first instance a
greater than David is here. The first person who
uttered these words was the Messiah, and that is quite
clear if yon read the psalm through; for we fall upon
such language as. this: "Sacrifice and offering thou
didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt
offering and sin offering hast thou not required. Then
said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is
written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God:
yea, thy law is within my heart." We need not say with
the Ethiopian, "Of whom speaketh the prophet this? Of
himself or of some other? "for we are led at once by
the plainest indications to see that he is not
speaking of himself, but of our Lord; and if we needed
confirmation of this we get it in Hebrews x., where
Paul expressly quotes this passage as referring to the
Lord Jesus. To him, indeed, alone of all men can it
with accuracy be applied. So this morning I shall have
to show that this text of ours is most fit to be the
language of the Lord, our representative and covenant
Head. When I have shown this, you will then see how we
can use the self-same expressions, because we are in
him. Each believer becomes a mirror in which is
reflected the experience of our Lord; but it would be
ill for us to be so taken up with the mere reflection
as to forget the express image by which this
experience is formed in us.
I shall ask you, then,
at this time, to observe our divine Lord when in his
greatest trouble. Notice, first, our Lord’s
behaviour,—"I waited patiently for the
Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry". then
consider, secondly, our Lord’s deliverance,
expressed by the phrase, "He brought me up also
out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay," and so
forth: then let us think, thirdly of the
Lord’s reward for it,— "many shall see,
and fear, and trust in the Lord" :—that is his
great end and object, and in it he sees of the travail
of his soul and is satisfied. We shall close,
fourthly, by perceiving the Lord’s likeness
in all his saved ones; for they also are brought
up from the pit of destruction, and a new song is put
into their months. He is not ashamed to call them
brethren, since in each one of them his own experience
is repeated though upon a smaller scale.
I. First, let us think of OUR LORD’S BEHAVIOUR.
"I waited patiently for the Lord." Here we greatly
need the teaching of the Holy Ghost; may it be given
us abundantly. First, our Lord’s conduct when he
was under the smarting rod was that of waiting.
He waited upon the Lord all his life, and this
waiting became more conspicuous in his passion and
death. He went down into Gethsemane, and there he
prayed earnestly; but with sweet submission; for he
said, "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt"
Complete submission was the essential spirit of his
prayer. He rose up from prayer all crimson with him
bloody sweat, and he went to meet his foes, delivering
himself up voluntarily to be led as a sheep to the
slaughter. He did not unsheathe the sword as Peter
did; much less did he flee, like his disciples, but he
waited upon the will of the Most High, enduring all
things till the Father should give him deliverance.
When they took him before Annas and Caiaphas, and
Pilate and Herod, hurrying him from bar to bar, how
patiently he kept silence, though false witnesses
appeared against him. Like a sheep before her shearers
he was dumb, submitting himself without a struggle. In
the omnipotence of patience he held his peace even
from good, because it was so written of him. When they
led him away to crucifixion through the streets of
Jerusalem he did not even encourage the lamentations
of the sympathizing women who surrounded him; but in
his wondrous patience he said, "Daughters of
Jerusalem, weep not for me." He did not refuse to bear
his cross, or to let the cross bear him. He did not
complain of contempt and contumely, since these were
appointed him. When they nailed him to the tree, and
there he hung in the burning sun, tortured,
fevered, agonizing, the words that escaped him were
not those of murmuring and repining, but those of
pity, pain, patience, and submission. Till he bowed
his head, and gave up the ghost, he bowed his whole
being to his Father’s will, waiting his time and
pleasure. He steadily took a long draught at the
appointed cup, and drained it to the bitter end. His
eyes were unto the Lord as the eyes of servants are to
the heads of their masters; he waited in service, in
hope, in resignation, and in confidence. He knew that
God would help him and deliver him, he knew that his
head would be raised on high above the sons of men;
but still he waited for the Father’s time, and.
meanwhile made himself of no reputation, and took upon
himself the form of a servant, and as a servant
yielded all his strength to the work which was given
him to do. He was willing in the hour of his passion
to be treated as the scum and scorn of all mankind,
nor did he hurry the hour when all the shame and scorn
should blossom into glory and honour. He went down in
his waiting even to the utmost of self-denial, and
truly proved that he came not to do his own will, but
the will of him that sent him. Never man served and
waited like this man.
Our text adds to this
word "waited" the word "patiently." "I waited
patiently." If you would see patience, look not
at Job on the dunghill, but look at Jesus on the
cross. Job, the most patient of men, was assuredly
impatient at the same time; but this blessed Lord of
ours gave himself up completely, and showed not the
slightest sign of repining. Not a speck of impatience
can be detected in the crystal stream of our
Lord’s submission. His soul was all melted, and
it all flowed into the mould of the Father’s
will: no dross was in or about him, nothing which
refused to melt and to run into the mould. One would
have supposed that he would have spoken an angry word
to Judas, who betrayed him; instead of which he gently
asked of him, "Friend, wherefore art thou come?" It
would not have seemed wonderful if he had upbraided
the Jews who so falsely accused him, or the rulers who
so unjustly treated him; but here is the patience of
the saintly One, he was perfect master of his own
spirit. His answer to his murderers was the prayer,
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they
do." So meek and lowly in heart was he that to men he
gave no sharp replies: his answers were all steeped in
gentleness; take for example his word to the high
priest: "If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the
evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?" They sat down
around the cross and mocked him, jeered at him,
insulted over him, and made mirth even of his cries
and prayers; but he did not utter a single word of
rebuke, much less did he leap from the cross to dash
his mockers in pieces, and prove by their destruction
that he was indeed the mighty Son of God. "I waited
patiently," saith he. No thought or word or deed of
unpatience can be charged upon him; waiting, he
waited, and wanted still. We are in such a hurry when
we are in trouble; we hasten to escape from it at
once; every minute seems an hour, and every day an
age. "Help me speedily, O my God !" is the natural cry
of the child of God under the rod; but our Saviour was
in no ill haste to get from the chastisement which
came upon him for our sakes: he was at leisure in his
woe. So thoroughly was he resolved to do his
Father’s will that even on the morning of his
resurrection he arose with deliberation, and quitted
the grave in order, folding his grave-clothes and
laying the napkin by itself. He steadily persevered in
all his work of holiness and sorrow of sacrifice,
never accepting deliverance till his work was done.
Patiently he endured to have his ear bored to the
door-post, to have his head encircled with thorns, his
cheeks distained with spittle, his back furrowed with
the lash, his hands and feet nailed to the wood, and
his heart pierced with the spear. In his body on the
tree patience was written out in crimson
characters.
Now, this was needful
for the completeness of his atonement. No expiation
could have been made by an impatient Saviour. Only a
perfect obedience could satisfy the law; only an
unblemished sacrifice could put away our sins. There
must not, therefore, be about our Substitute a trace
of resistance to the Father’s will, nor as a
sacrifice must he struggle against the cords, or turn
his head away from the sacrificial knife. In truth,
his was a willing, patient doing and suffering of the
divine will. "He gave his back to the smiters
and his cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: he
hid not his face from shame and spitting." "I waited
patiently for the Lord," saith he; and you
know, brethren, how true was the declaration.
But while the Saviour
thus waited, and waited patiently, we must not forget
that he waited prayerfully; for the text speaks
of a cry which he lifted up, and of God’s
inclining himself to it. That patience which does not
pray is obstinacy. A soul silent to God is apt to be
sullen rather than submissive. A stoical patience
hardens itself against grief, and asks no deliverance;
but that is not the patience which God loves, it is
not the patience of Christ. He used strong crying and
tears unto him that was able to save him from death.
Let Gethsemane tell of that wrestling which infinitely
excelled the wrestling of Jacob: Jabbok is outdone by
Kedron. His was a wrestling, not to sweat alone, but
unto sweat of blood: he sweats who works for bread,
the staff of life, but he sweats blood who works for
life itself. What prayers those must have been under
such a fearful physical, mental, and spiritual agony
which were so fervent that they brought an angel from
the throne, and yet so submissive that they are the
model of resignation. He agonised as earnestly as if
he sought his own will, and yet he wholly resigned
himself to the Father, saying, "Lo, I come: in the
volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to
do thy will, O my God." Our Lord was always praying:
there never was a moment in his life in which he was
not in full communion with God, unless we except the
period when he cried, "Why hast thou forsaken me?" He
did often go aside to pray a more special prayer, but
yet even when he spake to the people, even when he
faced his foes, his soul was still in constant
fellowship with his Father. But ah, when he came
between the upper and the nether millstones, when this
good olive was ground in the olive press, and all the
oil of his life was extracted from him, then it was
that his strong crying and tears came up before the
Lord his God, and be was heard in that he feared.
Now, brothers and
sisters, look at your pattern, and see how far short
you have come of it. At least, I will remember with
regret how far short I have come of it. Have we
waited? Have we not been in too great a hurry? Has it
not been too much our desire that the Lord might make
his will like our will rather than make our will like
his? Have you not had a will of your own sometimes,
and a strong will too? Have you not been as the
bullock unaccustomed to the yoke? Have you not kicked
against the pricks? You have not waited, but you have
worried. Can we say that we waited patiently? Oh, that
patience! Every man thinks he has it until he needs
it, but only let his tender point be touched, and you
will see how little patience he possesses. It is the
fire which tries our supposed resignation, and
under that process much of our palace of patience
burns like wood, hay, and stubble. Old crosses fit the
shoulder, but let a new cross be laid upon us and we
writhe under it. Suffering is the vocation of a
Christian, but most of us come short of our high
calling. Our Lord Jesus has joined together reigning
and suffering, for we read of "the kingdom and
patience of Jesus Christ"; he was the royal example of
patience, but what are we? Remember, again, that Jesus
prayed importunately while he waited: "being in an
agony, lie prayed more earnestly." Have we not at
times restrained prayer? have we not pleaded as an
excuse for our feeble petitions the very facts which
ought to have been a spur to our earnestness? "I felt
too ill to pray." Couldst thou not pray for health
with all the more fervency? "I felt too burdened to
pray." Shouldst thou not pray for help to bear thy
burden? Can we ever safely say to ourselves, "I may be
excused from supplication now, for my sorrow is
great." Talk not so. Here is thy balm and benediction,
thy comfort and thy cordial: here is thy strength and
succour, thy constancy and confidence. Even in the
midnight of the soul let us arise and pour out our
hearts like water before the Lord. O tried believer,
get thee to thy knees, and from above the mercy-seat
the glory of the Lord shall shine forth upon thee.
Pray even as Jesus did, and as all his saints have
done, so shall you in patience possess your soul. In
due time the Lord inclined to the afflicted suppliant,
listening to his moaning from the bottom of the pit:
of this it is high time for us to speak. Yet let us
not leave this first point till we learn from the
example of our Lord that patience is seen in waiting
as well as in suffering. To bear a great weight for an
hour or two is nothing compared with carrying a load
for many a day. Patience knows its letters, but
waiting reads the page, and praying rehearses it in
the ears of God. Let us add to our patience waiting,
and to waiting prayer.
II. We come, secondly, to consider OUR LORD’S
DELIVERANCE. In due time, when patience had had her
perfect work, and prayer had at last prevailed, our
suffering Lord was brought up again from the deeps of
sorrow. His deliverance is set forth under two
images.
First, it is represented
as a bringing up out of a horrible pit. It is a
terribly suggestive metaphor. I have been in the
dungeon in Rome in which, according to tradition,
Peter and Paul were confined (though, probably, they
were never there at all). It was indeed a horrible
pit, for originally it had no entrance but a round
hole in the rock above; and when that round hole at
the top was blocked with a stone, not a ray of light
nor a particle of fresh air could possibly enter. The
prisoners were let down into the cavern, and there
they were left. When once the opening was closed they
were cut off from all communication with their fellow
men. No being has ever been so cruel to man as man.
Man is the worst of monsters to his kind, and his
cruel inventions are many. He has not been content to
leave his fellows their natural liberty, but he built
prisons and digged pits in which to shut up his
victims. At first they would place a man in a dry well
merely for custody and confinement, or they would drop
him into some hollow cavern in the earth in which corn
or treasure had been concealed; but afterwards with
greater ingenuity of malice they covered over the top
of these pits so that the prisoners could not be
partakers of God’s bountiful air, or the merciful
light of the sun, or the silver sheen of the moon.
Covered all over and shut in, the captives were buried
alive. Even in modern times we have seen what they
call oubliettes, or dungeons in which prisoners
were immured, to be forgotten as dead men out of mind,
buried so as never to come forth again. Such
unfortunates as were doomed to enter these tombs of
living men bade farewell to hope. They were
inhabitants of oblivion, dwellers in the land of
deathshade, to remain apart from their kind, cut off
from memory. These worst of dungeons may illustrate
our text,— "He brought me up also out of an
horrible pit."
In the original we get
the idea of a crash, as when some mailed warrior in
the midst of the battle stumbles into a pit, and there
he lies bruised and broken: and there is the thought
of the fall of waters rushing strangely, furiously,
mysteriously. The Hebrew hath it, "the pit of noises,"
or as some render it, "the pit of destruction." Such
was the condition of our dear Redeemer when he was
bearing our sin and suffering in our stead.
Just notice, first, that
our Lord was like a man put into a pit, and so made to
be quite alone. Imagine yourself now confined
in one of those caverns, with the big stone rolled
over the mouth of it. There would be neither hearing
nor answering. Now will you know the dread solemnity
of silence. You may speak, but no gentle whisper of
sympathy will reach your ears in return; you may cry
again and again and make the dungeon’s dome echo
to your voice, but you are speaking as to
brass—no man cares for your soul. You are alone;
alone in a fearful solitude. Thus it happened to our
Saviour. All his disciples forsook him and fled, and
what was infinitely worse, his God forsook him too. He
cried, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Can any man tell me all that was meant by that
infinite lament?
Of course, a prisoner in
such a pit as that was in total darkness. He
could not see the walls which enclosed him, nor so
much as his own hand. No beam of sunlight ever
wandered into that stagnant air; the captive would
have to grope for the pitcher of water and the morsel
of bread which a cruel mercy would allot to him. Our
Lord was in the dark; midnight brooded over his
spirit. He said— "Now is my soul troubled." "My
soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death." His was
a pit of gloom, the region of the shadow of death, a
land of darkness as darkness itself.
When a man is shut up in
a pit he is, of course, full of distress, If
you were, any of you, to go into one of the solitary
cells of our own jails, I warrant you a short sojourn
in it would be quite enough. These cells some years
ago were thought to be wonderful cures for all sorts
of evil dispositions in men, but probably they have
oftener destroyed reason than conquered depravity. Go
in, if you dare. Ask the warder to shut to the door,
and leave you in the dark all alone, that you may try
the solitary system for yourself. No, I should not
advise you to try it even for five minutes, for you
might even in that short space inflict such an injury
upon your nervous system as you would never recover. I
believe that many of the gentler ones here would be
quite unable to bear total darkness and solitude even
for the shortest space. In the grim gloom the soul is
haunted with phantom fears, while horror peoples the
place which is empty of human beings; the heart is
worried with evil imaginations, and pierced with
arrows of distress; grief takes hold of the
spirit, and alarm conquers hope. In our Lord’s
case, the grief and sorrow which he felt can never be
described, nor need it be conceived. It was something
tantamount to the miseries of damned souls. The holy
Jesus could not feel the exact misery which takes hold
on abandoned rebels, but he did suffer what was
tantamount to that at the judgment-seat of God. He
gave a quid pro quo, a something which in
God’s esteem, reckoning the dignity of his mighty
person, stood instead of the sinner’s eternal
suffering. He felt woe upon woe, night blackening
night. Do not try to realize his agony; he wills that
you should not, for he has trodden the winepress
alone, and of the people there were none with him, as
if to show that none could understand his sorrows, and
that we can do no more than speak of his "unknown
sufferings."
But I must add, to
complete the figure, that shut up in such a pit there
might be a great tumult above, like to the tramping of
armed hosts, or there might be a rush of waters
underneath the captive deep in earth’s bowels. He
could not tell what the noise was, nor whence it came;
and hence he would often be in terrible fear while he
sat alone in the thick darkness. Our Lord had his
fears, for we read that he was heard in that he
feared. Torrents of sin rushed near him; floods of
wrath were heard around him, and cataracts of grief
fell upon him. Besides, there was a mystery about this
anguish which intensified it,—a mystery not to be
written or explained. Our Redeemer’s spirit was
cast down within him far beyond anything that is
common to men; in that horrible pit, that pit of
destruction, he lay with none to pity or sustain.
But, oh, change the
strain, and sing unto the Lord awhile, as we read the
verse, "He brought me up out of an horrible pit." The
Lord Jesus Christ was lifted up from all sorrow of
spirit at that moment when he said so bravely, "It is
finished," and though he died yet was he lifted up
from death, as it is written, "Thou wilt not leave my
soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One
to see corruption." His spirit ascended to God, and
by-and-by, when the third day had blushed with morning
light, his body rose from the tomb, to ascend in due
time to glory. He came up out of the pit of the grave,
delivered from all fear of corruption, pain, or
defeat. Now his sorrow is ended, and his brow is clear
from care. His visage is marred no more: he bears the
scars which do but illumine his hands and feet with
splendour, but:
"No more the bloody
spear,
The Gross and nails no more,
For hell itself shakes at his name,
And all the heavens adore."
Sing ye unto the Lord, ye saints of his, as ye
behold your Master brought up again from among the
sorrowful, the despised, the deserted, the dead.
A second figure is,
however, used here to express our Lord’s grief
and deliverance from it,— "Out of the miry
clay." Travellers tell us that wherever pits are
still used as dungeons they are damp, foul, and
utterly loathsome; for they are never cleansed,
however long the prisoner may have been there, or
however great the number of victims shut up within
them. You know what the prisons of Europe were in
Howard’s days, they were even worse in the East
in periods further back. The imprisoned wretch often
found himself sinking in mire; he found no rest, no
hope of comfort, and when extricated he needed a hand
to drag him out of the thick clay. Our blessed Lord
and Master found himself when he was suffering for us
where everything appeared to give way beneath him; his
spirits sank, his friends failed him, and his heart
melted like wax. Every comfort was taken from him. His
blessed manhood found nothing upon this earth upon
which it could stay itself, for he had been made sin
for us, made a curse for us, and so every foundation
of comfort departed from him. He was deprived of
visible support, and was reduced to a sad condition.
As a man who has fallen into a slough cannot stir so
as to recover himself, so was it with our Redeemer,
who says in the Psalms,— "I sink in deep mire,
where there is no standing." Some morasses are so
destructive that, if a man should once fall into them,
he might give up his life for lost unless some one
came that way to drag him out. So did the Saviour sink
in the miry clay of our sin and misery until the Lord
Almighty lifted him out. The clay of sorrow clung to
him; it held to him while he was performing the great
work of our redemption. But the Lord brought him up
out of it. There is no mire upon his garments now: his
feet no longer sink, he is not held by the bands of
death, he slides not into the grave again. He was
dragged down, as it were, by bearing our sin, but that
is over, and he hath ascended on high: he hath led
captivity captive, and received gifts for men. All
honour be unto him, and to his Father who delivered
him.
As we read our text we
pursue this story of our Master’s deliverance,
and we are told that he was brought up out of
the lowest deeps. Say the words or sing them as you
choose,— "He brought me up." God upraised his
obedient Son from the depths into which he had
descended on our account. He was brought up, like
Jonah who went to the bottom of the mountains, and yet
was landed safely on the shore. He was brought up like
Joseph, who rose from a pit to a palace; like David,
who was led up from the sheepfold to the kingdom. "The
king shall joy in thy strength, O Lord; and in thy
salvation how greatly shall he rejoice His glory is
great in thy salvation: honour and majesty hast thou
laid upon him. For thou hast made him most blessed for
ever: thou hast made him exceeding glad with thy
countenance."
Then we are told he
was set on a rock, and oh, the glory of our
blessed Lord in this matter, for now he stands on a
firm foundation in all that he does for us. Judgment
and truth confirm his ways, and the Judge of all the
earth approves his doings. Christ has no sandy
foundation for his work of mercy or his word of
comfort. When he saves he has a right to save: when he
puts away sin he does it on indisputable grounds: when
he helps and delivers his people he does it according
to law, according to the will of the Highest. As
Justifier, Preserver, and Perfecter of his people, he
stands upon a rock. This day I delight to think of my
Lord as settling his church with himself upon the
immutable foundations of the covenant, on the decree
of God, on the purpose of the Father, on his own work,
and on the promise of God that he would reward him in
that work. Well may we say that his feet are upon a
rock, for he is himself, by another figure, the Rock
of ages, the Rock of our salvation.
And now the
goings of our glorious Christ are established.
When he goes out to save a sinner, he knows that
he can do it, and has a right to do it. When he goes
up to his Father’s throne to make intercession
for sinners, his goings are established, and the
desire of his heart is given him. When he comes in
among his church, or marches forth with his people to
the ends of the earth, his goings are established.
"For the king trusteth in the Lord, and through the
mercy of the most High he shall not be moved." He
shall surely come a second time without sin unto
salvation, for so has the Father decreed: his glorious
goings are as surely established as were those of his
labour and suffering. We shall never be without a
Saviour: we shall never have a fallen or a vanquished
Saviour; for his goings are established for
continuance, certainty, and victory. Such honour have
all his saints; for "the steps of a good man are
ordered of the Lord"; and again, "none of his steps
shall slide."
Best of all, there is a
new song in the mouth of our Well-beloved. It
is grand to think of Jesus singing. Read the
twenty-second Psalm, and you will find him doing it,
as also in the Hebrews: "In the midst of the church
will I sing praise unto thee." Toward the end of his
earthly career you hear him bursting into song. Was
not that a grand occasion just before his passion,
when he was going out to die; we read that "after
supper they sang a hymn." If we had been bound to die
that night, as he was, we should rather have wept or
prayed than sang. Not so our Lord. I do not know what
psalm they sang: probably a part of the great Hallel,
usually sung after the Passover, which consists of
those Psalms at the end of the book which are so full
of praise. I believe the Saviour himself pitched the
tune and led the strain. Think of him singing when
near his hour of agony! Going to scorn and mockery,
singing! Going to the thorn-crown and the scourge,
singing! Going to death, even the death of the cross
singing! For the joy that was set before him he
endured the cross, despising the shame! But now, what
must that new song be which he leads in heaven? "They
sang, as it were, a new song before the throne"; but
it is he that leads the heavenly orchestra. How
greatly he excels Miriam, the sister of Moses, when
she took her timbrel and led forth the women in their
dances, saying, "Sing unto the Lord, for he hath
triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he
thrown into the sea." This is called "the song of
Moses, the servant of God and of the Lamb"; so I
gather that the Lamb’s new song is after the same
triumphant fashion: it is the substance of that which
Moses’s song foreshadowed. In Christ Jesus the
Lord our God has led captivity captive. Let us praise
him on the high sounding cymbals. Sing unto the Lord,
for he bath triumphed gloriously. The powers of
darkness are destroyed; sin, death, and hell are
drowned in the atoning blood: the depths have covered
them: there is not one of them left. Oh. "sing unto
the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously." "Ascribe
ye greatness unto our God."
III. Such is the exalted condition of our Lord at this
hour; let us turn and look upon THE LORD’S
REWARD. The Lord’s reward for having gone down
into the horrible pit, and having sunk in the miry
clay for us, is this,—that "many shall see, and
fear, and trust in the Lord." "Many!" Not all
mankind, but "many" shall look to Jesus and live.
Alas! vast numbers continue in unbelief; but "many"
shall believe and live; and the Lord’s "many"
means very many. As I was thinking over my text, I
thought, "I hope there will be some at the Tabernacle
this morning that belong to the ‘many’ who
shall see and fear and trust in the Lord." "Many
shall," for the Lord hath promised it.
But, Lord, they will not. "But they shall," says God.
Oh, but many refuse. "But they shall," says God, and
he hath the key of men’s hearts, and power over
their judgments and their wills. "Many shall." Do you,
oh ye unbelievers, think that Jesus shall die in vain?
Oh sinners, if you will not have Christ, others will.
You may despise him, but he will be none the less
glorious. You may reject his salvation but he shall be
none the less mighty to save. He is a king, and ye
cannot pluck a single jewel from his crown. If you are
so foolish as to provoke his iron rod so that he shall
break you in shivers with it, yet he will be glorious
in the sight of God, and he will save his own.
Notwithstanding your hardness of heart, be this known
unto you, oh House of Israel, that "many shall see,
and fear, and trust in the Lord."
What shall the many do?
They shall "see." Their eyes shall be
opened, and they shall see their Lord in the horrible
pit, and in the miry clay; and as they look they shall
see that he was there for them. What joy this will
create in their spirits! If they do not see the Lord
Jesus as their substitute they shall, at any rate, be
made to see the exceeding sinfulness of sin. If when
Jesus only takes imputed sin, and has no sin of his
own, yet he must be cast into the horrible pit and
sink in the miry clay; then what will become of men
who have their own sins about them; provoking the
fierce anger of the Lord? If God thus smites his
well-beloved, oh sinner, how will he smite you!
Beware, ye that forget him, lest he tear you in
pieces, and there be none to deliver you. By the
suffering Surety all covered with his own gore, I do
beseech you, provoke not God; for if his Only-Begotten
must suffer so, you mast suffer yet more if you first
break his law, and next reject his gospel.
"Many shall see." Do you
wonder that it is added," and shall fear"? It makes
men fear to see a bleeding Christ, and to know that
they crucified him. It makes men fear, however, with a
sweet filial fear that is akin to hope, when they see
that Jesus died for sinners, the just for the unjust,
to bring them to God. Oh, when they see the Lord of
love acting as a scapegoat, and bearing their sins
away into the wilderness of forgetfulness, they begin
to hate their evil ways, and to have a reverent tear
of God; for so saith the Scripture, "there is
forgiveness with thee that thou mayest be feared."
But best of all—and
this is the chief point—they come to "trust
in the Lord." They build their hope of salvation
upon the righteousness of God as manifested in Christ
Jesus. Oh, I would to God that some of you would trust
him at once. Beloved friend, are you trying to be
saved by your own works? That is a delusion. Are you
hoping to be saved by your own feelings? That is a
lie. But you can be saved, you shall be saved: if you
will trust yourself with that blessed One who was
alone in the dark pit of noises for the sake of
sinners, and slipped in the miry clay for the ungodly,
you shall assuredly be saved from wrath through him.
Trust him, and as surely as he liveth you shall be
saved; for he that trusteth in him cannot perish.
God’s truthfulness were gone if the believer
could be lost. Hath he not said, "He that believeth
and is baptized shall be saved." The throne of God
must rock and reel before the cross of Christ shall
lose its power to save those that believe.
IV. Fourthly, let us see THE LORD’S LIKENESS in
his people. This whole passage., as I said in the
beginning, has often been used by individual believers
as a description of their own deliverance. It is a
true picture, because we are made like unto our Head,
and all the brethren are partakers of that which the
Head has endured. Do I speak to any of my
Master’s servants in sore trouble? Dear friends,
are you made to wait, though your trial is sharp and
severe? Is it so that your prayer has not yet been
answered? Then remember the waiter’s place was
once occupied by the Lord Jesus, for he says, "I
waited patiently." If the Lord keeps you waiting for a
certain blessing year after year do not despair, He
will give it at length if it be truly for your good,
for he hath said "no good thing will I withhold from
them that walk uprightly." He kept his Son waiting,
and he may very well keep you in like posture, for how
long did’ you delay, and cause the Lord of grace
to wait on you! "Blessed are they that wait for him."
I have seen people very uppish when they have called
on a public man and have had to wait a little; they
feel that they ought not to be kept in the lobby; but
suppose some young man said to them, "I am his own
son, and yet I have been waiting an hour." Then they
are more patient. So when God keeps you waiting do not
be proud, and say, "Wherefore should I wait for the
Lord, any longer?" but remember "It is good for a man
both to hope and quietly wait for the salvation of
God." Jesus waited— "waited patiently." Seek to
be like him, and in patience possess your soul. "I
cannot see how I am to be delivered." Wait. "Ah, this
is such a heavy burden." Wait. "But I am ready to die
under this terrible load." Wait! Wait on! Though he
tarry, wait for him: he is worth waiting for. "Wait"
is a short word, but it takes a deal of grace to spell
out its full meaning, and still more grace to put it
in practice. Wait: wait. "Oh, but I have been
unfortunate." Wait. "But I have believed a promise,
and it has not been fulfilled." Wait; for you wait in
blessed company: you may hear Jesus saying, "I waited
patiently." Blessed be his name, he is teaching us to
do the same by his gracious Spirit.
Next, the Lord may send
you, his dear child,. a very heavy sorrow: you may
fall into the horrible pit, and see no light, no
comfort, and no one may be able to cheer you or help
you. Some that have a touch of despondency in their
nature have been brought so low as almost to despair
of life. They have sat in darkness and seen no light:
they have felt the wails of their prison and have not
discovered a crack or cranny through which escape was
possible: they have looked up, and even then they have
seen nothing to console them. Ah, well, here is a word
I commend to you,—the Saviour says it: "He
brought me up." The Lord God can and will bring up his
troubled ones. You will have to write in your diary
one of these days, "He brought me up." I was in the
dark, I was in the dungeon, but "He brought me up." I
can personally say this with gladsome gratitude, for
"He hath brought me up," again and again. My heart is
glad as I reflect upon my past deliverances. I have
often wondered why I am so often shut up in prison,
and bound as with fetters of steel; but I cease to
wonder when I think of the many among you who are
called to wear the like bonds. This is my portion,
that I may he a witness-bearer for my God, and that I
may be able to speak to the experiences of God’s
tempted people, and tell how graciously the Lord
delivers his servants who trust in him. Faith shall
never be ashamed or confounded, world without end. God
can and will hasten to the rescue of the faithful. I
set to my seal also that "He brought me up"; and,
beloved brother in tribulation, he will bring you
up; only rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for
him.
"Ah," say you, "but I do
not know how to stand, for I sink as in miry clay,
through faintness of heart: I cannot find the
slightest foothold for my hope." No, you are sinking
in the miry clay like your Master; but in answer to
prayer the Lord will bring you up out of your hopeless
state, and he will set your feet upon a rock, and
establish your goings, and give you joy, and peace,
and delight. Wherefore see, and fear, and trust in
God, and give glory to his blessed name.
Lastly, do I address any
seeking one who finds no rest for the sole of his
foot? Dear friend, are you sinking in the deep mire of
your guilt? The Lord can pardon you, for "the blood of
Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Are
you shut up by conscience in the prison-house under a
just sense of deserved wrath? Jesus will give you
immediate rest if you come to him. Do you feel as if
you cannot kneel to pray, for your very knees slip in
the mire of doubt? Remember, Jesus makes intercession
for the transgressors. Do you seem as if, every time
you move, you are burying your hope, and slipping
deeper and deeper into ruin? The Lord hath plenteous
redemption. Do not despair. You cannot deliver
yourself, but God can deliver you: you cannot stand of
yourself but God can make you to stand. You cannot go
to him nor go abroad among your fellow-men with
comfort, but the Lord can make you to run in his ways.
You shall yet go forth with joy and be led forth with
peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth
before you into singing, and all the trees of the
field shall clap their bands. Only see Christ, and
fear and trust your God, and you too shall sing unto
Jehovah your deliverer, and this shall he your
song:
"He raised me
from a horrid pit,
Where mourning long I lay,
And from my bonds released my feet,
Deep bonds of fury clay.
Firm on a rock he
made me stand,
And taught my cheerful tongue
To praise the wonders of his hand
In a new thankful song."
_________________________
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON—Psalm
xl.
________________________
HYMNS FROM "OWN HYMN BOOK"—196, 40,
332.
No. 1,674.
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