Thomas
M'Crie
Sermon: Grief for the Sins of Men
PSALM 119:136: Rivers Of Waters Run Down Mine Eyes,
Because They Keep Not Thy Law.
It is no rare spectacle to see a person
in tears. Man is the heir of trouble, the child of sorrow, which assails him in
a thousand forms. If exempt for any time from suffering in his own person, his
sympathies are continually called forth by the afflictions of others to whom he
is linked by the bond of a common nature, and by the more tender ties of
kindred and friendship. How often do we see the face foul with weeping for the
loss of a parent, a brother, a child, or a husband; and scarcely has the
mourner washed himself and dried up his tears, when some new calamity causes
them to flow afresh! The enquiry which we are ready to make on such occasions,
What ails thee? Why weepest thou? does not express our surprise at the sight,
but our desire, whether dictated by curiosity or benevolence, to ascertain the
cause of the distress.
But, my brethren, the test presents us with a
spectacle which is rare indeed, and which, though far from unreasonable, is
calculated to excite very general surprise - a man whose heart was pierced, and
from whose eyes the tears streamed, not on account of any bodily pain, or
domestic trial, or worldly loss, but on account of the violations of God's law
which he witnessed around him. David had met with heavy calamities of a
temporal kind, and on these occasions we behold the keen sensibilities of the
man blended with the confidence and submission of the saint. When persecuted by
Saul as a traitor, when forced to flee from his capital by the unnatural
rebellion of Absalom, or when informed of the unhappy death of that undutiful
but beloved son, we can account for his grief on common principles. But when he
composed this lengthened and beautiful piece of devotion, which expresses
throughout the calm but intense breathings of delight in the law or revealed
will of God, felt and cherished in the hours dedicated to uninterrupted and
fixed meditation, he appears to have been free from all the ordinary causes of
distress and sorrow. The afflictions which he had suffered were recollected by
him only as affording grounds of thanksgiving on account of the spiritual
benefit he had derived from them. The attempts of his enemies, and the bitter
scorn with which they had assailed him, were thought of only to enhance his
esteem for those statutes, the study of which had made their envenomed darts to
fall harmless at his side.
Yet while enjoying that peace which passeth all
understanding. and which is the blessed portion of those who love God's law,
there was one thing which pained him, which was an alloy to his happiness,
which we find him repeatedly lamenting in the course of the Psalm, and which
occasioned him more poignant grief than all the personal and domestic trials
under which his heart had formerly bled. His righteous soul was vexed from day
to day by the frequent, open, bold, and persevering transgressions which he saw
and heard of. I beheld transgressors, and was grieved. Rivers of waters run
down mine eyes, because they keep not thy law.
Grief for sin is one of
those charities of the heart, whose operation begins at home. He who has never
seen his own sin, who has not been grieved for it, and wept over it, cannot
feel grief for that of others. There is sympathy implied in sorrowing for the
sins of others; and we cannot feel deeply for those distresses to which we are
utter strangers in our own persons. Without this personal experience, we may
weep, but will not grieve; and our tears will, at the very best, be theatrical
and professional. Nay, they will pass for gross hypocrisy with Him who sees the
heart. There is great danger of self-deception here. We are apt to flatter
ourselves that we hate sin, when we condemn or bewail it in the conduct of
others, while, in reality, we are only indulging a splenetic, censorious, or
fretful disposition. Self-love, too, conceals from us the guilt or turpitude
cleaving to our actions, which we clearly see in the same or similar actions
done by others.
When David heard the story of the poor man and his
ewe-lamb, he could not repress the sentiments of indignation which rose in his
breast against the hard-hearted oppressor; but what an appalling discovery was
made to him when the prophet said, Thou art the man! The spoiler of the
poor man was forgotten, and his deed, base as it was, swallowed up and lost in
that of the ravisher of Bathsheba and the murderer of Uriah. I have
sinned. He felt as if there had not been another sinner in the world.
The sacrifice of a broken spirit is pleasing to God; but it must be
offered, like those of the priests under the law, first for our own sins, and
then for the people's (Heb. 7:27). But this gracious principle, while it begins
at home, must not end there. It must be liberal and diffusive; and its
diffusiveness is one mark, and no small or accidental one, of its genuineness.
The exercise described in our text was not peculiar to David. We find it
displayed in the recorded experience of the most distinguished saints in
Scripture. Of Lot we are told that he was vexed with the filthy conversation of
the wicked; for that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing,
vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds (2 Pet.
2:7). Isaiah exclaims, Wo is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean
lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips (Is. 6:5). Jeremiah
has been called the weeping prophet, because his writings were bedewed with
tears, produced, not merely by the destruction of the daughter of his people,
but by the wickedness and rebellion which brought it upon her. Mine eye, says
he, runneth down with rivers of water - mine eye trickleth down, and ceaseth
not, without any intermission (Lam. 3:48, 49).
We see the same spirit
manifested by Paul, and by one greater than them all - the Man of Sorrows, who
showed his acquaintance with this as well as other causes of grief, by weeping
over the unbelief, the obduracy, and the wickedness of men. If we mourn for sin
truly, it will excite our grief wheresoever and by whomsoever it is committed.
But, like all our sympathies, it will be excited more powerfully by the sins of
those with whom we are more intimately connected, and by such of them as come
more immediately within the sphere of our own observation. We are to mourn more
especially, though not exclusively, for the sins of our own land, of the city
in which we dwell, of the church with which we are in immediate fellowship, of
the congregation of which we are members, and of our own families.
Having
made these general reflections, let us now, in the first place, trace these
rivers of grief to their springs; and in the second place, specify some of the
leading qualities of this grief. I. Let us trace these rivers of grief to their
springs. 1. Grief for the sins of men springs from love to God. Every saint
feels a lively interest in the honor of God, arising from the knowledge which
he has had of his boundless goodness, and the supreme delight which he takes in
him as his all-sufficient and everlasting portion. Sin is a violation of the
authority of God, and an offence to the essential purity of his nature. It
insults his majesty, and reflects dishonour (so far as a created act can do)
upon all his attributes. How strong and impressive is the language which God in
condescension employs when speaking of the conduct of sinners in reference to
himself. They make him a liar, deny him, reproach him, lift up the heel against
him; he is limited by them, made to serve, robbed, wearied, tempted, provoked,
vexed, grieved, broken, pressed under them as a cart is pressed under sheaves.
Now all the saints feel as he feels. They feel as a dutiful subject, servant,
child or wife feels, when a gracious prince, kind master, liberal benefactor,
indulgent parent, or affectionate husband, is dishonoured or ungratefully used.
Every letter of his name, every work of his hand, every word of his mouth,
every precept or institution on which he has stamped his authority, every
lineament of his image which can be traced on any the meanest of his creatures,
they respect; and cannot bear to see any injury done to it, or even dishonour
breathed upon it.
How then can they be but grieved - is it any wonder that
rivers of waters run down their eyes, when his name is profaned, his works
contemned, his word denied, his precepts trampled on, his image disfigured and
derided? 2. It springs from love to the law of God. Consider, my brethren,
where the text lies - in the heart, in the very bosom of the most fervent
breathings of delight for that law which sinners keep not. It is bedded in a
channel of pearls. What variety, what fulness of appropriate language, does the
Psalmist employ in this sacred ode, to express his esteem for the revealed will
of God, without any mixture of that vain repetition or straining, which is to
be seen in formal and studied encomium! The law of thy mouth - the word of thy
lips - thy commandments - thy precepts - thy testimonies - thy statutes - thy
judgments. They are true, faithful, righteous, wonderful, everlasting. God's
law had quickened him - made him wiser than all his teachers - comforted him in
all his affliction - was his counsellor in critical cases. He cannot utter his
love for it - he loved it exceedingly - he asks God to consider how he loved it
- it was his delight - sweeter than honey to his mouth - better than thousands
of gold and silver - it was his meditation all the day - he kept it, and made
haste to keep it - he had sworn and he would perform it - he hid it in his
heart - he rejoiced in it as those that find great spoil - he inclined his
heart to it - he stuck to it - he opened his mouth and panted, his eyes failed,
and he fainted in looking for it. And as if he had exhausted speech in its
praise, he exclaims, hopeless of doing it or his own feelings justice, I have
seen an end of all perfection: but thy commandment is exceeding broad!
What
is the reason brethren, that we do not feel that deep grief for sin which the
Psalmist evinced? It is because we have not the intense love which he felt for
that law, of which every sin is a transgression. And why should we not? Its
limits surely have not been contracted - it has lost none of its excellences or
recommendations. There is one consideration (not to mention others) which ought
to increase our respect for the law, and consequently our grief for sin.
Christians must reckon every sin as a violation of that law which the Son of
God has magnified, and made honourable, and vindicated by his obedience in our
nature and in our stead. And God, by the agony and death of his Son, has
stamped sin with the broad and burning brand of this hatred. O harder than the
adamant must that heart be, which weeps not for that which brought the sweat as
great drops of blood from the body of our Redeemer, and made his soul sorrowful
even unto death!
It springs from love to the sinner. Love to God produces
love to our brethren, - and this affection is expressly enjoined by the law
which is so much esteemed by every genuine saint. None knows better than he the
sad and awful consequences of sin. Having escaped them himself, he is anxious
to save others; and when all advices and remonstrances fail, and sinners will
not hear nor consider to give glory to God, what can he do but, like the
prophet, weep in secret places for their pride and impenitency? One sinner
destroyeth much good; and when we see the law broken in any instance, we cannot
calculate to how many sins this will lead in the same individual, or in others
over whom he has influence, or to whom his example may extend. While the
Christian hates the sin, he loves the person of the sinner; and the more he
loves the latter, the more must he loathe and mourn over the former.
This
affords an illustration of the Psalmist's language: Do not I hate them, O Lord,
that hate thee? and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee?
There are personal feelings which stir this grief, and enter into its
composition. When we see a person in distress, it frequently reminds us that we
were once afflicted in the same or a similar way - a recollection which
strengthens our sympathy, if it is not the spring from which it directly flows.
In like manner the saint is made to recollect his former sins, and his grief
for them mingles with that which he feels for the present sins of others. In
how many ways, too, unperceived by us, may we not have contributed by our
untenderness, or the careless performance of our duties, to lead astray or to
harden others! Judah was forced to say, on fuller information, respecting his
daughter-in-law whom he had condemned to be burned, She hath been more
righteous than I (Gen. 38:26).
And how painful must have been the
recollections of David on the misconduct of his sons! National guilt, which
brings down temporal calamities on a people, is the aggregate to which each has
contributed his share. Though the son shall not bear the iniquity of the
father, but every one shall be dealt with ultimately for his own
transgressions; yet the sins which we see committed around us are the sins of
our common nature, which, by the very laws of humanity, we are called to
deplore. The words of the heathen poet may be adopted fitly on such occasions,
and in this application, by the Christian: I am a man; and I reckon nothing
that belongs to mankind foreign to me. They are the fruits of the sin of our
first father and representative, which is imputed justly to us all. They
proceed from that depravity of nature which is common to all, and which might
have discovered itself in us, by the same gross scandals and crimes which we
observe in others, if this had not been prevented by converting grace, or
providential restraints.
It is told of a good man, who had a deep insight
into the depravity of his heart, which had been cured by the regenerating grace
of God, that he never saw a criminal going to the scaffold without saying,
There goes such a one - pronouncing his own name.
II. I now proceed to
mention the leading qualities of this grief.
1. It is genuine. There may
be, and often is an affected and hypocritical expression of sorrow for
prevailing sins, and there may be false and lying tears, as well as words,
before God. Such were those which we may suppose the Jews to have shed, when,
on visiting the tombs of the righteous which they had built from a pretended
zeal, they exclaimed, If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not
have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets (Mat. 23:30). And
such are the wailings over public sins by those who indulge in practices, less
gross it may be, but equally repugnant to the law of God. But the feeling
described in our test was preceded, as we saw, by profound grief for personal
sin, and is uniformly associated with a recollection of the sins which the
mourner has himself committed. Its genuineness is evinced by its impartiality.
The sincere mourner is grieved for the sins of friends as well as of enemies, -
of those of his own religious connection, as well as those of other
denominations, - for the sins of his own family, as well as those of his
neighbors; nay, he is more sensibly affected with the dishonours done to God by
those who are most intimately connected with him - the provoking of sons and
daughters. He is grieved for all sin. The ears of every sober person are
shocked at hearing the hellish imprecations uttered by some profane men; but he
is affected by hearing the name of God taken, or minced, in vain. Few that have
any respect to religion but would have their feelings hurt if they saw the
theatres thrown open, and men flocking to places of public entertainment or
business, on the Lord's day (although this is done in some countries called
Christian); but he is distressed to know that this holy day is so generally
spent in idleness, in private dissipation and parties of pleasure, in
unnecessary visiting, or in vain, worldly and irreligious company and
conversation. The genuineness of these tears is evinced by the ease with which
they flow. Take a person of tender feelings to a scene of distress, and the
tear will instantly start to his eye on beholding it. Tell a benevolent man of
a worthy family involved at once in sickness and destitution, and you need not
to give him a minute description of the distressing scene which harrowed up
your feelings on visiting it, to dispose him to contribute for its relief. The
mere sight of sin draws forth the sorrow of a godly man. I BEHELD
transgressors, and was grieved.
It was an ancient custom to employ
minstrels and hired mourners on occasions of domestic calamity, with the view
of increasing the sorrow of those who assembled, and thus doing more honour to
the dead. The saint has no need of such theatrical stimulants. His eye
affecteth his heart (Lam. 3:51). In fine, his tears flow more freely in secret;
he goes to his closet, and on his knees he weeps and makes supplication before
his heavenly Father. It was to God that the Psalmist was speaking in the text;
and every true mourner can join with him in his appeal, Do not I hate them, O
Lord, that hate thee? and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee
(Ps. 139:21)?
2. This grief is generous and seemly. There is a godly sorrow
for the evils of this life; but sorrow for worldly distresses is no proper mark
of godliness. The observation applies so far to sorrow for sin. If we grieve
and weep merely for our own sins, there may be ground to suspect that we are
actuated by a selfish principle, - that we are merely afraid of the punishment
to which they expose us. But when we are grieved for the sins of others, after
our own have been pardoned and blotted out, this shows that we feel the
dishonour done to God, and are touched with compassion for the souls of others.
It is accordingly a feeling of which no person needs to be ashamed. To be
overwhelmed with affliction - to burst into tears at every untoward or
distressing occurrence - to indulge in immoderate grief even on occasion of
great trials, is weak and childish. But it is not unseemly to weep for sin, for
any sin, and it is not easy to be excessive in this expression of sorrow. Such
tears become Christian men - men of stature and valor; for, as one has
expressed it, it is the truest magnanimity to be sensible on the point of God's
honour which is injured by sin. David was reproved by his commander-in-chief
for mourning immoderately and indecently for Absalom; but he had no reason to
be ashamed when rivers of waters ran down his eyes, because they kept not God's
law. And had this degraded him in their eyes, he might have replied, as on
another occasion, I will be yet more vile than thus, and will be base in mine
own sight (2 Sam. 6:22). 3. This grief varies, especially in it's expression,
in different persons, and in the same person at different times. This is common
to it with other gracious dispositions in the hearts of men who are but
partially sanctified, and whose exercise, in this their sublunary state,
resembles the tide which ebbs and flows according to the varying influence of
the moon. Sometimes their eyes are dry, at other times the tears may be seen
standing in them; now they trickle down the cheek, and again they run like a
stream. Sometimes their hearts are altogether unaffected, and they have no
tears to shed for sin, and what is worse, no desire to shed them; at other
times, they could wish that their head were waters, and their eyes a fountain
of tears, and that they had a lodge in the wilderness where they might weep day
and night for the guilt of their people, and the judgments it has provoked.
Sometimes the transition from insensibility to melting of heart may be very
sudden, and effected by a very slight instrumentality. He who has the key of
the well that is in the heart can open it by a touch, a word, a look.
An
instance of the species of sorrow exemplified in the text occurs in the Epistle
to the Philippians. The Apostle had been exhorting his brethren to :rejoice in
the Lord, and he had been giving them an example of it in his own exercise, in
that most charming passage, beginning, Yea, doubtless, and I count all things
but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord. But while
pursuing this pleasing strain, the Spirit brought to his remembrance some
instances of professors, who had joined with him is speaking the same language,
but had been left foully to contradict it; and he all at once changes his
voice: :Many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even
weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ (Phil. 3:18). And it
was some time before he recovered himself, so far as to intimate to them that
he did not mean to retract what he had given them as his final exhortation:
Rejoice in the Lord alway; and again I say, Rejoice (Phil. 4:4). A difference
may be expected in the exercise of the saints, at least as to degree, in the
manifestation of sorrow for sin. Some are more eminent for one grace, and
others for another; as Moses for meekness, and Job for patience; Elijah for
zeal against sin, and Jeremiah for grief on account of it. The same affection,
therefore, may often be discovered, according to the character of the
individual, in the different forms of indignant reprehension, mild
expostulation, or tearful complaint. The natural temperament is also to be
considered. The constitution of some men denies them tears; and grace does not
in this world change the bodily temperament. Deep waters make little noise, and
are scarcely seen to roll or to move. Sometimes the sorrow is too big for
utterance; and tears, when they come, bring relief. Even the situation of the
person is to be taken into account. Abraham was called to walk with God in
faith and obedience; while Lot, having chosen his residence in a city notorious
for it's wicked practices, had his righteous soul vexed from day to day.
4.
This grief is habitual. Though it may vary, as the object of it is presented or
withdrawn, or as the attention is called off to other and necessary duties, and
there is a time to weep, and a time to refrain from weeping, yet it is not a
transient emotion, but an abiding exercise. David in the text does not say,
rivers ran, but run. Paul could call God to witness that he had great sorrow
and continual heaviness in his heart (Rom. 9:2); for his unbelieving and
impenitent countrymen. As long as Christians are in this world they will have
reason for this feeling; although it may be more strongly excited on some
occasions than on others. The idolatrous connections which were formed by Esau
were a grief of mind unto Isaac and Rebekah (Gen. 26:35); and at a later period
of their lives, the latter gave expression to what must often have been the
experience of the saints, when she said, I am weary of my life because of the
daughters of Heth (Gen. 27:46). Woe is me, cries the Psalmist, that I sojourn
in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar. My soul hath long dwelt with him
that hateth peace (Ps. 120:5, 6). But offences must come, scandals will be
occurring from time to time in the church; and unless the Christian go out of
the world, he cannot avoid coming in contact with persons whose conduct will
stir up his grief, and keep these rivers of waters from remaining stagnant. In
fine, this grief is influential and profitable. It may be useful to others; it
will be useful to ourselves. By the sadness of the countenance the heart is
made better. It will increase our love to the law of God, on the principle
which leads us to take an interest in the person whom we have sympathized with
under distress or injurious treatment. It will enhance our compassion towards
the sinner, by leading us to contemplate the misery to which he is exposed, to
pray for him with greater fervency, and use every means for his relief. Sin is
hateful, and the person who has rolled himself in it is odious in the sight of
God and of all good men. But our indignation against sin is apt to become a
passion (which it never is in God), it is apt to be influenced, if not kindled,
by the strange fire of our own corruptions, and to be directed against the
person of the offender instead of his sin, to alienate us from him instead of
exciting us to seek his salvation, and to dispose us to blaze abroad instead of
covering the multitude of sins.
Now our grief for sin will check our
indignation against it, and its waters will reduce and cool down our feelings
(if I may so express it) to the proper Christian temperature. In such cases, it
is always dangerous when our anger is more intense than our grief.. Jacob's
sons, when they heard of the folly wrought in Israel by the dishonor of their
sister, were grieved and very wroth. And this excess of indignation finally
precipitated them into an act which not only brought on the name of Israel; a
deeper stain than that which they sought to wipe off, but extorted from him
these bitter words on his death-bed: Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce;
and their wrath, for it was cruel (Gen. 49:7). We never more need to put away
all wrath and bitterness and clamor and evil speaking, and to be tender
hearted, than when we are reproving sinners, or using means to recover those
who are led captive of the devil. Had Jonah been more grieved for the
wickedness which led to his denunciation against the inhabitants of Nineveh, he
would not have been angry at their repentance and reprieve.
True grief for
sin may also be expected to have a good effect on the sinners themselves.
Surely if any thing will awaken a person to a consideration of his ways, it
would be the clear conviction that he was giving the most acute distress of
mind to a godly minister, parent, brother, friend or neighbour. If any advice
or remonstrance can have effect, it would be that conveyed in the accents of
tender sympathy and unaffected sorrow,. This would oil, not feather, the arrow
of reproof. If it was a Christian brother who was thus dealt with, surely he
would be gained, and made to say, Always smite me thus, for it is a kindness;
reprove me thus, for it is and excellent oil, which shall not break mine head.
If, provided we had a call and opportunity in Providence, we were to rise from
our knees, and with hearts melted with grief for his sin, to go to him and say,
I am distressed for thee, my brother; my bowels are moved within me, my
repentings are kindled. You see before you a fellow-offender, one who has
sinned in the same manner as thou hast done, and whose sin has this day been
brought to remembrance by thinking upon thine: If we were to act in this
manner, have we not some ground to expect that, by the blessing of God, it
might be the means of calling forth a kindred feeling in his breast, and might
we not hope to see realized, in a much higher sense, the pathetic scene
described by the poet, when an aged king went to beg the body of his son, and
succeeded in touching and melting into pity the stout heart of the murderer, by
reminding him that he also had a father? [Now each by turns indulged the gush
of woe, And now the mingled tides together flow.]
But, above all, genuine
grief for sin has an influence with God himself, and has often been the means
of averting his displeasure, not only from the individual himself, but from
those over whom he mourns. When God was about to inflict a signal punishment on
the inhabitants of Jerusalem, he issued a special order to spare those who were
engaged in this exercise. Go through the midst of the city, and set a mark upon
the foreheads of the men that sigh, and that cry for all the abominations that
be done in the midst thereof (Ezek. 9:4). Whole nations may have been indebted
for their preservation from ruin, to the seasonable flowing of these rivers of
waters from the eyes of a few genuine mourners in Zion, who, obscure and
despised as they may have been, must be ranked, on this account, as the truest
patriots, and the best benefactors of their country. Ungodly men, says a pious
writer (Archbishop Leighton), though they meddle not with public affairs, or
should they be faithful and honourable in meddling, yet by their impious lives
they are traitors to the nation, the incendiaries of states and kingdoms. Godly
men, though they can do no more than mourn for the sins of the nation, are the
most loyal and serviceable subjects, bringing tears to quench the fire of wrath
kindled by sin. Let these sayings sink down into your ears. Let us all be
deeply humbled in the sight of God. Let the land mourn, every family apart
(Zech. 12:12). Let every man be covered with sackcloth, and cry mightily unto
God: Yea, let them turn every one from his evil way, and from the violence that
is in their hands. Who can tell if God will turn and repent, and turn away from
his fierce anger that we perish not (Jonah 3:8)?
Let me close this subject
with a few reflections.
1. How rare is this exercise, even among professing
Christians! To the greater part of the world it is wholly unknown. As the men
of the world are strangers to the joy peculiar to a godly man, so they cannot
enter into the grounds of his sadness. How can it be expected, when they never
saw the criminality or turpitude of sin, which, to their vitiated taste,
instead of being an evil and bitter thing, is a sweet morsel, which they roll
under their tongue? With them, the mourner for sin is either a hypocrite or an
enthusiast, he either acts a part by affecting a sorrow which he does not feel,
or he foolishly mars his own happiness by brooding over the representations of
a gloomy imagination, and indulging the qualms of a sickly and distempered
conscience. Thus it has been in every age. Thus it was with David, or rather a
greater than David, who had to say, When I wept and chastened my soul with
fasting, that was to my reproach. I made sackcloth also my garment; and I
became a proverb unto them. They that sit in the gate speak against me; and I
was the song of the drunkards (Ps. 69:10-12). This, though it stirs instead of
abating their inward grief, induces them to restrain the expression of it in
public, and to seek for secret places in which they may give it vent without
provoking the reproached and insolent contempt of them that are at ease in
Zion. As in the context of the words I was quoting; But as for me, my prayer is
unto thee. That those who never felt any love to God or his law should look
strangely on the person who mourns and is in bitterness for it, is not to be
wondered at. But there is a fact which comes nearer to us, and which may justly
excite both surprise and alarm. How rare is the exercise of the Psalmist among
those who profess godliness! Among those who have separated from the world
lying in wickedness, and who testify against and condemn the abominations done
in the midst of the land! How far short in this respect do those come whom we
are bound in charity to look upon as Christians indeed! O 'tis a rare thing to
see a person weep for sin, but it is a rarer, much rarer thing to see one
weeping and grieved for the sins of others! Where, oh where are those adown
whose cheeks the tears of sorrow for sin flow? Whose sore runs in the night,
and whom neither bodily health, nor domestic enjoyments, no, nor the assurance
of personal salvation, will comfort, while they see God's law broken, and his
name every day blasphemed? God knows where they are: they are his hidden ones,
like the seven thousand in Israel, who were unknown to Elijah, and like the
mourners in Jerusalem, who could be discovered, not by Ezekiel, but by the man
clothed in linen, with the writer's ink-horn by his side (Ezek. 9:2). We have
often read the words of the text, they are familiar to our ears, we acquiesce
in them as a just description of the exercise of a saint. But what experience
have we of the exercise which they describe, or, allowing them to be
figurative, of the inward sentiment of which they are the natural sign? It is
said that God puts the tears of his children into his bottle (Ps. 56:8). Ah! my
brethren, if the tears which we have shed for worldly trials were separated and
set aside, and if those which we have shed under awakenings and compunctious
visitings for our own transgressions were also separated and set aside, what
would the residue be? The smallest vial in the apothecary's shop would more
than suffice to hold it. It will be so far a favorable symptom, if we are
convinced of our mournful failure in this matter, and grieved for the hardness
of our hearts.
2. How much need is there for the renewing and softening
influences of the divine Spirit! The exercise described in the text supposes,
in relation to sin, a discerning eye, a tender conscience, and a full heart.
But the heart of man by nature is, in regard to spiritual things, blind,
insensible, and unfeeling. Even those who possess great natural sensibility,
and who have tears in readiness for every earthly object of distress, have none
to bestow on that which is the fruitful and malignant source of all the evils
which have drowned the world in sorrow. They may feel at the commission of
those gross vices which attach infamy to themselves or their connections, or
which entail visible misery on the culprit. But they feel not for sin, for the
dishonor it does to God, and the degradation and ruin which it brings on the
rational and immortal soul. The hard and flinty heart must be struck by the rod
of God's word, wielded by the hand of a greater prophet than Moses, before the
waters of godly sorrow will flow from it; and there is this difference between
it and the rock in the neighborhood of Horeb: the one needed to be struck only
once; whereas the other requires repeated strokes of divine influence, in order
to extract the treasure which is infused into, not inherent in it. Even the
renewed heart is apt to return to its original obduracy, or to contract a
callousness as to sin by its daily contact with it, unless this is subdued by
the grace of God. It is true, our Saviour has said, He that believeth on me,
out of his belly (that is, out of his heart) shall flow rivers of living water.
But what says the Evangelist in explanation? But this spake he of the Spirit,
which they that believe on him should receive (John 7:39). Would we have the
services of this day, would you have the word now spoken, to profit us, by
leading us to mourn and be in bitterness for our sins? Like David in the text,
then let us look up, with faith and fervent desire, to him who promised to pour
on the house of David, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace
and of supplications.
Back to Menu