III. This is the language of earnest solicitude

Enough has been said to show that the disclosures which are made to the convinced sinner by the Spirit of God, must render him, in no small degree, unhappy; and such a state necessarily produces solicitude, both in respect to the present and the future. It is natural that the sinner should earnestly desire a deliverance from the burden that now oppresses him, and from the appalling doom which conscience bids him anticipate in the next world.

If there were nothing more than his present condition concerned, there would be good reason why he should long for a change; for such a condition is always unhappy, and often wretched beyond our most gloomy conceptions. What Christian, especially what minister of Christ, has not witnessed cases, in which the sinner in the circumstances which I am supposing, has been stung by remorse, agitated by terror, convulsed by agony, to such a degree, that life itself has seemed a burden; and the aspect of despair has settled upon the countenance; and even the grave has been longed for, if it might but prove a refuge from the lashes of a guilty conscience. But where the operations of the Spirit assume a milder form, and the impressions of guilt are far less pungent, there is still enough in the sinner's condition to cause him earnestly to desire that he may escape from it. For he feels that while this burden hangs upon his conscience, the world is nothing better to him than a prison, overspread with darkness, and hung round with despair.

But if the sinner is anxious, and with good reason too, to escape from the miseries of his present condition, much more is he desirous to escape from the accumulated woes which await the ungodly in the world of despair . He realizes that there is an awful meaning in the description which the Bible has given of the future and eternal miseries of the lost; and he ponders the fearful imagery in which those miseries are described, until his heart throbs and sinks with apprehension. Here again, is it strange that he is anxious to escape from this tremendous doom? Rather, would it not be very strange, if, with such a view of the danger of his condition, he could fold his arms and lull himself into an indolent security?

It is not always easy for the sinner in the state which I am supposing, to analyze the operations of his own mind. And if it is difficult for him to understand the nature of his emotions, he is still more perplexed to know in what manner he may obtain peace. Often, the most that he can say respecting himself is, that there is an intolerable burden resting upon his conscience; that he knows not which way to look for relief; that all around him and before him, is impenetrable darkness. And not unfrequently, the burden of his anxiety is that, with such just occasion for distress, he feels so little; and while, to all others but himself, he seems to be on the borders of despair, he imagines that he is utterly destitute of moral sensibility.

In these circumstances, he adopts, in many respects, a new course of life. If he has been accustomed to mingle in scenes of levity, he mingles in such scenes no longer. The Bible, and other pious books, which he has been used to treat with entire neglect, he reads with most earnest attention. He rejoices in the opportunity, though he often does it with great diffidence, to unbosom himself to his minister, or some Christian friend, and to receive appropriate instruction and counsel. He is often found in the meeting for prayer and pious conference, and still oftener in his closet, pouring out the anguish of his heart before God. You may tell him that a sinner ought not to pray; but the false direction he will not heed; for though he feels no confidence that he shall be saved, let him do what he will, yet if he is saved, he is sure that it must be by an act of God's sovereign grace, and that grace he has no reason to expect, if he does not supplicate it. His former careless associates, not improbably, during this period, look on with amazement, and perhaps treat his serious impressions with ridicule; but what avails all their ridicule with him, so long as his eyes are open to survey the appalling realities of his condition?

Do you ask whether, in all this striving of which I have here spoken, the sinner advances any nearer to the kingdom of God, or to a regenerate state? I answer, yes, undoubtedly; though I would guard the answer by an explanation. It is far from being true, that the sinner, by any effort he can make, does anything in the way of merit towards commending himself to the divine favor; nor do any of his moral exercises preparatory to renovation partake of a holy character: nevertheless, these efforts seem designed, in the economy of God's grace, to prepare him to accept a free salvation; and though there be nothing of a moral character in the prayers that are offered previous to conversion, which God can regard with approbation, yet there is the natural feeling of distress. And who can tell but that He who hears the cry of the young ravens, may not listen to the cry of the convinced sinner? To whatever conclusions men may be conducted on this subject by metaphysical speculation, all experience unites with the word of God in proving that, though the sinner who is only convinced will as certainly perish as any other, yet the convinced sinner is, in an important sense, nearer the kingdom than the careless sinner; not because he has a particle of holiness—but because he has exercises which, in the order of nature, are preparatory to a spiritual renovation. If our Lord himself could say of a mere moral man, that he was not far from the kingdom of God, surely we need not hesitate to apply the same language to a sinner trembling under the burden of conviction.

I have now laid before you, my young friends, so far as I have judged necessary, the exercises and the condition of a sinner, in what is usually termed a state of conviction. In this situation I must, for the present, leave him. It is natural to infer,

1. In the first place, from the preceding remarks, how far you may go, and finally fall short of heaven . Are you, at this moment, an anxious and heavy laden sinner? Have your iniquities taken hold upon you, so that you are not able to look up; and are you trembling under the apprehensions of Jehovah's wrath? Have you forsaken the haunts of levity, and broken away from vain companions, and have you taken up the resolution that you will press forward and enter in at the straight gate? Believe me, so far as this you may go, and even farther—and yet perish in your sins. All this you may be today, and the world may have begun to regain its ascendancy over you tomorrow, and before you are yet scarcely aware of any change, you may find yourself again in the ranks of the mirthful and careless. Nay, you may continue in this very state until you die; you may always remain a serious inquirer for the way to heaven, and may even lie at its very gate, and yet, after all, may never enter in.

Therefore, I entreat you not to rest satisfied in your present condition. It would be to no purpose that you should discover that some distressing worldly calamity was hanging over you, unless the discovery should lead you to do something to avert it; nor will it be of any avail that you see yourselves exposed to eternal perdition, unless you actually make haste to escape from the wrath to come. Let the effect of the disclosures already made to you by the Spirit of God, lead you to action; else you will not only perish—but perish with a doom aggravated by the very fact that you have been the subject of serious convictions.

2. Learn from this subject, that it is a most solemn thing, especially for a young person, to be awakened . It is indeed a solemn thing for any person; because he is thereby brought under the direct influence of the Spirit of God; and in the result of the Spirit's operation is probably to be decided the question—whether his immortal soul is to be saved or lost; whether his path through life is to be cheered by the hopes and consolations of true religion, and to terminate amid the bright glories of the upper world, or whether he is to go laboring through this valley of tears without any substantial support, often disgusted, and never satisfied, with what the world has to bestow—and finally to sink down under the withering frown of the Almighty, and be banished from his presence forever!

I say then, that the fearful result which is pending, renders the case of any awakened sinner peculiarly solemn; but the case of a young person, in such circumstances, gathers additional interest from the fact that he is surrounded with peculiar temptations to abandon his convictions, and return to a habit of carelessness. For in his case there are mirthful companions to be forsaken, and there are scenes of merriment to be abandoned, in which, it may be, the individual concerned, has been specially active; and probably there is the hiss of contempt, or the frown of indignation, to be encountered, from those who have been accustomed to greet him as one of themselves. Oh, when I see a young person in these circumstances, I tremble; because I expect that the decision he is about to make will be for eternity; and I see much reason to fear that his decision will be wrong.

3. And this leads me to say, thirdly, that those youth who dare to trifle with the serious convictions of their companions, are in the very broadest part of the road to destruction . They trifle with the immediate influence of the Spirit of God. They cast contempt upon the most benevolent work which he ever performs for mortals. They make a direct and most dreadful attempt to thwart the gracious purposes of heaven, and plunge an immortal soul into everlasting burnings. If I supposed there were a single youth before me who bore the character of a scoffer, I would say to him, Beware—beware how you ever speak lightly again of the work of the Holy Spirit. And possibly some of you may have been guilty of the essence of this sin, when you have thought little about it. When you met your brother or sister, whose countenance wore an aspect of deep concern, and you purposely threw out some light and careless remark, or perhaps cast a significant smile, as if in derision, know that that brother or sister felt it at the heart, as a cruel and cutting rebuke; and know too, that he who takes an account of all your actions, recorded it as an insult shown to his authority, and an attempt to counteract the influences of his Spirit. And when, as you were passing off the threshold of this house, you met some companion whom you had seen melted under the warnings, or invitations, which had just been announced, and when you took that companion by the hand and said, "Come, let us go and talk of the pleasures of the past week, or project plans of amusement for the week to come,"—know too, that you were then opposing the operations of the Spirit of God, and aiming a murderous dagger at the soul of your friend! I say nothing which is not the result of solemn conviction, when I declare, that I would a thousand times rather my dearest friend should come and trifle with my last agonies, and dance around the bed on which my cold and motionless body was stretched, and close my dying eyes with a loud peal of laughter—than to have him approach me with ridicule, when my heart was burdened with conviction; for in the one case, he would only chill the last blood that passes through my veins; in the other, he might awaken everlasting agonies in my soul.

Finally: I dare not close this discourse without urging you (though in doing so, I should seem to anticipate my next subject) to an immediate compliance with the terms of the gospel : because, if I should be spared to stand in this place again, to answer the question, "What shall I do to be saved?" some of you may, before that time, have heard your last sermon, and have passed into that world where the voice of instruction cannot reach you. I call upon you then to attend without delay to this momentous concern; to obey the command of God to give him your heart; and I seem to hear a call in everything around me, conveying to you a similar admonition. There is a call from above, which I recognize as coming from the throne of God, and inviting you to all the glories of his kingdom. There is a call from below, which seems to come from the abodes of darkness, echoed in groans, and agonies, and tortures, warning you to beware how you withhold the heart from God another day. There is a call from within, which bids you take care and not sacrifice your immortal souls. There is a call in the memory of departed worldly joys, admonishing you that they are worthless, and bidding you seek superior bliss. There is a call from the dying bed of the Christian, and the dying bed of the sinner; the one pointing upward, by way of invitation, to the glories of heaven; the other downward, by way of admonition, to the horrors of hell.

But above all, there is a call from the cross of Calvary—from the Savior in the act of dying for your redemption; and his language is, "Come unto me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Mourning sinner, that call is to you—to no mortal more than you. Away then with all this halting and hesitating, and accept of Jesus, and your conscience will be at rest; your soul will be full of peace and hope; and joy will descend from heaven, and take up her dwelling in your bosom.