EARLY
PIETY
Chapter One
"THERE is no person, perhaps, who makes a profession of
religion but has come to some decision or other on that all-important subject.
People either believe on good or bad grounds that they are already religious,
or they resolve to become so at a future time. True, many Sabbaths may have
been spent, and many sermons heard, and many funerals attended which have
awakened no serious thoughts, nor led to such questions as these: Am I saved?
What shall I do to be saved? In the case of many, more or less in the a a
case of all, who are mere hearers of the Word, familiarity with divine things
breeds indifference; if not contempt. Under its influence they become as
insensible to the most solemn threatenings of the law as the inhabitants of the
Indies to the thunderstorms that, though terrific, are common there. The mercy
of God, and the bleeding love of Jesus are set forth in the sermons of every
Sabbath, and the symbols of every sacrament, but they are as little impressed
by these as by the nightly glories of the starry sky. Death is such a common
event, an obituary so certainly finds a place in every newspaper, and they are
so accustomed, on inquiring, to hear that this old acquaintance is dying, and
that one is dead; they are invited to so many funerals, and meet so many
hearses in the street with their nodding plumes and sable array - and, till
more decent customs were adopted, they so often saw the mouldering relics of
the dead " scattered at the grave's mouth, as when one cutteth and cleaveth
wood on the earth," that they grow familiar with death; and can hear him
knocking at a neighbour's door without once thinking that whether they are
ready or unready, his hand shall be at theirs.
True; and pity 'tis 'tis
true! Yet there are occasions which awaken serious thoughts in the most
careless however they may endeavour to suppress and banish them. Some
event occurs, like a clap of thunder, to rouse the sleeping conscience; and,
calling up terrible visions of death, of judgment, and of hell, she insists on
men thinking of the subjects that belong to their peace; and one of two things
happens : either they conclude, on insufficient grounds, that they are saved,
or, as is much more common, they resolve to be so at some future time.
In
the first case, without altogether ignoring Jesus Christ and His salvation,
they trust to something meritorious in their works, or in themselves. One
builds much on his honesty,his motto the adage,'' An honest man's the
noblest work of God;" another on his integrityhis boast this, that "his
word is as good as his bond;" another on his charityseeking no better
inscription for his tombstone than one I have read in an old churchyard, "He
was kind to the poor!" They have, or fancy they have, amid many sins, some
virtues. These be thy gods, O Israel! Alas! that we should forget that sinners
cannot get to heaven on the fragments of a broken law, as in St. Paul's
shipwreck some got ashore on the planks of the broken ship. St. Paul himself
has made that plain. Speaking of the works of the fleshadultery,
fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred,
variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders,
drunkenness, revellings, and such likethey, he says, who do such things
shall not inherit the kingdom of God. And what does it matter, though men are
not guilty of all, if they are guilty of one of these sins? " Cursed," says the
God with whom we have to do, "is every one who continueth not in all things
written in the book of the law to do them." Other hope therefore man has none
but what lies in accepting the righteousness which, wrought out by Christ and
imputed to believers, is not of works, but of faith. And how sad it is to see
men leave this solid rock, and having to build a house, against whose rocking
walls fierce winds shall rave, and angry waters roar, build it on a sand-bank
that the last flood cast up, and the next shall sweep away.
But those I
have now to do with, belong to a different class. They are convinced that they
have no righteousness of their own; yet they put off embracing
Christ's,they fear, were they to die this night or drop down dead this
moment, that they would be lost; yet they delay to seek a Saviour till the evil
days come, and the years draw nigh when they shall say they Have no pleasure in
them. A dangerous delay; a very desperate venture! Yet not one for which a "
heart deceitful above all things and desperately wicked," cannot, urge some
specious pleas. All who put off salvation have reasons, of a kind, to plead for
the step they take. So had those who, with the forms of polite respect,
declined an invitation to the "great supper" "I have bought a piece of ground",
says one, and "I must needs go and see it, I pray thee have me excused""I
have brought five yoke of oxen", says a second, "and I go to prove them, I pray
thee have me excused"and, with less manners but more appearance of
reason, "I have married a wife", says a third, "and therefore I cannot come".
Even so procrastinators have reasons, though not so plausible, for declining,
meanwhile, Jesus' gracious invitations. But whether it is that they are so
engaged in the world's business that they have no time, or are so bewitched
with its pleasures that they have no inclination to turn religious, one idea is
common to them allthis, namely, that not childhood, nor youth, nor
manhood, but old age is the most suitable period for becoming devout. They
argue thus: In old age we shall have less to do with the business of this
world, and have consequently more leisure for that of the next; then this world
will afford us little enjoyment our passions, lik fierce fires, will
have burned themselves out;. our bodies, withered and bent with a load of
infirmities, will be incapable of debauchery or excessand, with more
time, we shall thus have inclination to turn to religion. vessel that, racked
by storms, is torn to pieces and gaping at every seam, makes all haste to port:
so will we. Unfitted by age for active pursuits, and compelled to withdraw from
the giddy circle that goes its round of pleasure, we shall be left to quiet
scenes and twilight hours favourable to meditation. Brought in the course of
three-score years and ten to the borders of another world, it cannot fail to
occupy much of our thoughts; nor when the head has turned grey, and the hands
are palsied, and the limbs shrunk and tottering, and ears are deaf and eyes are
dim, can we miss to recognise these as the heralds of the grim king, and hear
the voice that says, Be ready, the Judge is at the door!
Is this our hope ?
Hope tells a flattering tale. It is a wild fancya mockery and baseless
delusion. See how God, with one blow of His hand, one sentence of His Word,
dashes the fabric to pieces! Talk of old age, grey hairs, passion quenched,
life's quiet evening, and sands running to the threescore years and ten! -what
if He should say, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee?
To uproot an idea which stands in the way of all attempts at, and hopes of
early piety, I observe that conversion is more difficult in old age than I any
other period.
At whatever age it takes place, this is properly the work of
God - "not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit" said the Lord of hosts;" or
as our Saviour said to Nicodemus, "Except ye be born of water and of the
Spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God" Be he Jew or Gentile, old or
young, learned or ignorant, with many or few religious advantages, no man can
become a partaker of the present or future blessings of grace unless he is born
again; is changed into the divine nature; is renewed in spirit; has Christ
formed within him: is, in short, so far as his motives and affections,
principles and practice are concerned, made a 'new creature in Jesus Christ'.
Regarded as a work of God, this change, I admit, cannot be more difficult at
one age than another. With equal ease the great ocean bears ships and seaweed
on its bosom, the earth carries mountains and molehills on its back; and still
more are all things equally easy to Godto preserve, for instance, an
angel or an insect in life, to kindle a sun or a glow-worm's fire, to create a
world or a grain of sand. And as it had been as easy for divine power to raise
Adam, who had been dead four thousand years, as Lazarus, who had been dead only
four days, or to raise Lazarus after four years as after four days in the tomb,
it is not more dif- ficult for God to convert an old than a young sinner. The
dying thief was saved in the jaws and very throat of deathhe stept into
heaven from the edge of hell: John Baptist, again, was born the second time
before being born the first, being sanctified from his mother's womband
both these events were equally within the compass of His power, to whom nothing
is impossible who has, in any case, but to say and it is done : to
command, and it standeth fast. Therefore let none despair.
Nevertheless,
since we are fellow-workers with God, there is a sense in which the
difficulties of conversion increase with yearsevery year adding strength
to our sinful habits; deepening, as by the constant flow of water, the channels
in which they run.
Take a sapling, for example. It bends to your hand,
turning this or that way as you will. When seventy springs have clothed it with
leaves, and the sun of seventy summers, ripening its juices, has added to its
height and breadth, who is strongest? Now, it scorns not your, but a giant's
strength. Once an infant's arm could bend it; but, with head raised proudly to
heaven, and roots that have struck deep in the soil and cling to the rocks
below, now it braves winter's wildest tempests. They may break its trunk, they
cannot bend it; nor is it but in death that it lays its head on the ground.
Every year of the seventy, adding fibres to its body and firmness to the
fibres, has increased the difficulty of bending it. That was less easy the
second year than the first, and the third than the second ; till, as time went
on, what was once easy grew difficult, and what was once but difficult became
impossible. Who, wishing to give it a peculiar bent, would wait till the
nursling had become a full-grown tree, or stood in its decay, stiff and
gnarled, hollow in heart and hoar with age ? None but a fool. Yet, with folly
greater still, we defer what concerns our conversion, a saving change and our
everlasting welfare, till long years have added to the power, and strengthened
the roots, of every wicked, worldly habit. Oh that men were wise, that they
understood this!
Human life, to borrow an example from it, furnishes many,
and some very melancholy, illustrations of this growth and power of evil
habits. Take the case of the poor drunkard, for instance. The rust of years
eats into other chains, making it easier to snap them asunder; but the links of
his grow stronger with time. Other cups may quench thirst, his but increases
it: till the love of drink becomes, not a passion, but a madness; and, deaf to
all arguments, and less blind than careless to all consequences, he holds out
the goblet in palsied hand to cry, "Give! give!" The day was when that wreck of
honesty and manly strengththat sad ruin of grace and womanly beauty, was
filled with sorrow and remorse; but these feelings became more and more
enfeebled, while drinking habits, fed by every new indulgence, increased in
strength making reformation less hopeful by every day's delay. And now,
like a boat swept on in a foaming rapid, which neither oar nor arm can stem,
with all the dread consequences full in sighta ruined character, a
beggared family, his body descending into an untimely grave, his soul to the
doom of these awful words, "no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of heaven"
he yields to a torrent that sweeps means, character, wife, children, body
and soul, into one common ruin.
With such touching and terrible
illustrations before their eyes, men talk of delaying to turn to God, for ten,
twenty, or forty years! Is it painful now to tear the world from our
hearts?when the love of it has grown with our growth, and strengthened
with our strength, when it has spread its roots wider, and struck them deeper,
to tear it up will demand a mightier effort, and inflict a greater pain. If sin
has already so seared the conscience, that we can hear another St. Paul reason
of "righteousness, temperance, and judgment," nor tremble in our seats as the
Roman trembled on his throne, in what state shall our conscience be when the
sins of future years have passed over it like a hot ironsearing, till,
all sensibility destroyed, it becomes as hard as horn; like callous flesh,
which the knife finds it difficult to penetrate, and impossible to pain? This
is no exaggeration. Of all tasks, we know none so difficult as to touch the.
feelings, and rouse the conscience of godless old age.
Besides, will
conversion be more likely and easy when age has dimmed our eyes, and the Bible
is become "as the words of a book that is sealed"when the church-bell
rings for others, but not for us; and, unable to creep beyond the door, our
Sabbaths are lonely and silent? Which is the better time when, in the
enjoyment of health, we can give undistracted attention to the things that
concern our peace, or, when sinking under the infirmities of years, or racked
with the pains of disease, we are reduced to such weakness, or suffer such
torture, that we can neither pray, nor join in prayer?
Besides, second
childhood, to a greater or less extent comes with agethe faculties of the
mind failing with, sometimes even before, those of the body. Like the leaves of
the ash-tree, these which were the last to appear, are occasionally the first
to depart; leaving the mind a more melancholy wreck than its shattered, crazy
tabernacle. And where the soul, asserting its immortality, seems to grow
larger, like a setting sun at the close of day, and its faculties survive amid
the decays of age, it is by no means rare to see life's last hours passed in a
disordered day-dream.; their realities offering a striking contrast to the
phantoms and fancies of the dying chamberfancies which restore the
preacher to his pulpit; the weaver to his loom; the merchant to 'change; the
sailor to the slippery deck ; the soldier, who has no enemy now to fight but
death, to the battle-field, where, deliriously shouting out the word of
command, he mixes in the melee, or heads the desperate charge. What man in his
right mind would select such times and scenes for working out his salvation?
Which is betterto remember your Creator now, or delay till conversion is
a thousand times more difficult; sinful habits have struck a deeper root; age
has dulled the mind, deadened the feelings, and seared the consciencetill
you are but the wreck and shadow of what you were; and all your pitiful
attempts to turn to God only recall the warning, "Can the Ethiopian change his
skin, or the leopard his spots ? then may ye also do good, that are accustomed
to do evil."
Conversion in old age is a very doubtful matter.
It is
doubtful whether we shall ever reach old age. Few do; and the probability is
that we never shall. It is still more doubtful whether, suppose we do, we shall
be more serious than in earlier years. The probability is all the other
wayit being true of other sinners besides seducers, that they, as
Scripture says, "wax worse and worse." But suppose that we are spared to old
age, and by devout attention we give to the Bible, to prayer and the house of
God, appear to have undergone a gracious change, it lies open to the gravest
suspicion. The possibility of conversion at the eleventh hour I do not deny;
still its reality is exceedingly doubtful. Take the case, for instance, of a
convicted thief. You find him where silver plate, gold, and jewels glitter
temptations on his eye. Alarmed, you reckon up your money, examine your
treasures to be agreeably disappointed. They are safe; and you naturally
conclude that he has turned over a new leaf and become an honest man. But,
however willing to judge charitably, how would your confidence in him vanish on
discovering that his hands were shackled, and that, though it was in his heart,
it was not in his power to rob you? So far as many gross vices are concerned,
such is exactly the position of hoary-headed sinners. Age has frozen their
passions, and unfitted them for pleasures after which they once "ran greedily;"
and so many infirmities have come with years, that a regard to health, and to
life itself, forcing them to refrain from debauchery, produces an apparent
reformation. A boat rotten in every plank, and gaping at every seam, has to
avoid the seas and swell that others brave; and it were death to old men to
venture on debaucheries in which others indulge. Thus the decorum which in some
cases marks the closing years of such a» had been notorious for vice, may
be due to other causes than an inward, saving, and gracious change. The lion
has not become a lamb when he has lost his teeth.
But here is a hoary
penitent. Poor old man, he trembles to hear of death and judgment; his aged
limbs carry him to what he once neglectedthe house of God ; the glasses
through which he scans his Bible are bedewed and dimmed with tears; bitterly
lamenting his sins, he warns others ; and on knees unused to bend he pours
forth prayers for pardon in tones of deepest earnestness. It seems cruel to
entertain doubts of such a case. But what is it we doubt ? Not that he is sorry
for his sins after a fashion; not but that he would give a world, which he must
soon part from, to be saved. In this case we may cling to the hope that He who
can save at the uttermost has called him at the eleventh hour; still, this
sorrow may only correspond to what the felon feels for crimes which have
brought him to the gallowscut short a mad and guilty career. Sorrow for
sin, and wishes to be saved ? What death-condemned man does not feel these,
does not bitterly lament the hour he embrued his hands in blood, does not
petition the Crown to spare his life, would not give the world for a file to
cut his chain for a key to unlock his prison? Repentance for crimes at
the foot of a gallows is not more open to suspicion than repentance for sins on
the brink of a burning hell.
Solemn warnings have come from scaffolds; but
no one standing on the brink of time, with the white cap on his head, and his
feet trembling on the drop, as he made his last speech to the awestruck crowd,
ever uttered voice so full of warning as the recorded experience of the
chaplain of a large jail in England. With the death-bell slowly tolling, he had
accompanied many to the scaffold, and also prepared not a few for execution who
were unexpectedly reprieved. Of these a large number seemed to be converted.
Their repentance appeared sincere; and had they suffered the penalty of their
crimes, he and others would have believed that, whom earth rejected, Heaven in
its mercy had receivedfor the sake of Christ's righteousness acquitting
at its bar those whom man had condemned at his. But they were sparedto
lead a new life? Alas, no! Thrown back into the world, the reality of their
conversion was put to the test. The glittering coin was tested, exposed to a
fiery trial; and what, deceived others, deceived perhaps themselves, proved
counterfeit. With hardly an exception, all who seemed to be converted within
the prison, under the shadow of the gallowsin circumstances to the
condemned corresponding with old age and the closing days of lifereturned
to their former courses; went back like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that
is washed to her wallowing in the mire. A melancholy fact! What a dark
suspicion does it cast on late conversions ? In these cases the sun that sets
on this world may rise to shine in a better; but dark clouds obscure such a
close of life; and so long as men will risk their souls on these desperate
ventures, however trite the remark, it cannot be too often, or too loudly, or
too solemnly repeated, that the Bible, which ranges over a period of four
thousand years, records but one instance of a death-bed conversion one
that none may despair, and but one that none may presume.
Go To Chapter Two