I close now upon the last point

IV. I close now upon the last point, namely, that this plea, if we retain it, not only accuses the pleader now — but IT WILL RUIN THE PLEADER FOREVER.

Let me show you two suicides. There is a man who has sharpened a dagger, and seeking out his opportunity he stabs himself to the heart. There he falls. Who shall blame any man for his death? He slew himself; his blood be on his own head.

Here is another: he is very sick and ill; he can scarcely crawl about the streets. A physician waits upon him; he tells him, "Sir, your disease is deadly; you must die; but I know a remedy which will certainly heal you. There it is; I freely give it to you. All I ask of you is, that you will freely take it." "Sir," says the man, "you insult me; I am as well as ever I was in my life; I am not sick." "But," says the other, "there are certain signs which I mark in your countenance which prove to me that you will have a deadly disease about you, and I warn you."

The man thinks a moment; remembers that there have been certain signs in him of this very sickness; a monitor within tells him that it is so. He obstinately replies to the physician a second time — "Sir, if I want your physic I will send for it, and if I need it I will pay for it." He knows all the while there is not a farthing in his pocket, and that he cannot get credit anywhere; and there stands the life-giving cup before him which the physician at great expense has obtained — but which he freely gives to him and bids him freely take. "No," says the man, "I will not take it; I may be somewhat sick — but I am not worse than my neighbors; I am not more ill than other people, and I shall not take it." One day you go to his bed and you find he has slept his last sleep, and there he lies stone dead. Who slew this man? Who killed him? His blood be on his own head; he is as base a suicide as the other.

Now I will show you two more suicides. There is a man here who says — "Well, let what will happen in the next world, I will have my fill in this. Tell me where there are pleasures to be had and I will have them. Leave the things of God to old fools, and such like; I shall have the things of the present, and the joys and delights of time." He drains the cup of drunkenness, frequents the haunt of folly, and if he knows where there is any vice pursued he rushes after it. Like Byron; he is a very thunderbolt, launched from the hand of an arch-fiend; he flashes through the whole firmament of sin, and blazes himself out, until decayed in body and soul, he dies. He is a suicide. He defied God; he went against the laws of nature and of grace, despised warnings, declared he would be damned, and he has got what he richly deserved.

Here is another. He says, "I despise these vices; I am the most upright, honest, and commendable of men. I feel that I do not need salvation, and if I did need it I could get it myself. I can do anything you tell me to do, I feel I have mental force and manly dignity enough remaining in me to accomplish it. I tell you, sir, you insult me when you bid me trust in Christ." "Well," he says, "I consider there is such dignity in manhood, and so much virtue in me, that I need not a new heart, nor will I succumb and bend my spirit to the gospel of Christ on free-grace terms." Very well sir, when in Hell you lift up your eyes, and you will do so as surely as the most profligate and profane, your blood will be upon your own head; and you will be as truly a suicide as he who wantonly and wickedly dashed himself against the laws of God and man, and brought himself to a sudden and hasty end by his iniquity and crimes.

"Well," says one, "this is a sermon well adapted to self-righteous persons — but I am not one." Then what are you, sir? Are you a believer in Christ? "I cannot say I am, sir." Why are you not, then? "Well, I would be — but I am afraid I may not believe in Christ." You are self-righteous, sir. God commands you to believe in Christ, and you say you are not fit. Now what does this mean but that you are wanting to make yourself fit, and this after all is the spirit of self-righteousness; you are so proud that you will not take Christ unless you think you can bring something to him — that is it "Ah! no," says one poor broken-hearted soul, "I do not think that is fair with me, for I do feel as if I would give anything, if I might hope to be saved; but oh, I am such a wretch! I am such a wretch! I cannot believe." Now, that after all is self-righteousness.

Christ bids you trust him. You say, "No, I will not trust you, Christ, because I am such-an-one and such-an-one." So, then, you are wanting to make yourself somebody, and then Jesus Christ is to do the rest. It is the same spirit of self-righteousness only in another garb. "Ah!" says one, "but if I did but feel my need enough, as you just now said, sir, then I think I would trust Christ." Self-righteousness again, you want your sense of need to save you.

"Oh! but, sir, I cannot believe in Christ as I would." Self-righteousness again. Let me just utter a solemn sentence which you may masticate at your leisure. If you trust to your faith and to your repentance, you will be as much lost as if you trusted to your good works or trusted to your sins. The ground of your salvation is not faith — but Christ; it is not repentance — but Christ. If I trust my trust of Christ, I am lost. My business is to trust Christ; to rest on him; to depend, not on what the Spirit has done in me — but what Christ did for me, when he did hang upon the tree. Now be it known unto you, that when Christ died, he took the sins of all his people upon his head, and there and then they all ceased to be.

At the moment when Christ died, the sins of all his redeemed were blotted out. He did then suffer all they ought to have suffered; he paid all their debts; and their sins were actually and positively lifted that day from their shoulders to his shoulders, for "the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all." And now, if you believe in Jesus, there is not a sin remaining upon you, for your sin was laid on Christ; Christ was punished for your sins before they were committed, and as Kent says:

"Here's pardon for transgressions past, It matters not how black their caste; And oh! my soul with wonder view, For sins to come here's pardon too."

Blessed privilege of the believer! But if you live and die unbelievers, know this, that all your sins lie on your own shoulders. Christ did never make any atonement for you; you were never bought with blood; you never had an interest in his sacrifice. You live and die in yourselves, lost; in yourselves, ruined; in yourselves, utterly destroyed. But believing — the moment you believe, you may know that you were chosen of God from before the foundation of the world. Believing, you may know that the righteousness of Christ is all yours; that all he did, he did for you; that all he suffered, he suffered for you. You do in fact, in the moment you believe, stand where Christ stood as God's accepted Son; and Christ stands where you stood as the sinner, and suffers as if he had been the sinner, and dies as if he had been guilty — dies in your room, place, and stead.

Oh! Spirit of God, give faith this morning. Win us all from self; knit us all to Christ; may we be saved now by his free grace