they would not have a different colour for the pulpit for the world. They will have everything strictly observed. Their whole salvation seems to depend upon the rightness of the form. Oh no, not they; they could not think of altering any of the forms of their church. You know it is quite as easy for a man to trust in ceremonials, when they are severely simple, as for a man to rely upon them when they are gorgeous and superb. A man may as much trust in the simple ordinance. of immersion and the breaking of bread, as another may trust in the high mass and in the prayers of priests. We may have Rome in Dissent, and Rome in the Church of England, and Rome anywhere; for wherever there is a trust in ceremonies, there is the essence of Popery, there is anti-Christ and the man of sin. Oh! take heed of this any of you who have been relying upon your ceremonies. This is just the truth, that the more zeal for ceremonies, generally the less power of vital godliness within. But now, how is it that the man who would not eat anything but salt-fish on Good Friday, cheats his neighbour on Saturday? How is it that the man who never would by any means go to anything but an orthodox sixteen-ounces-to-the-pound Baptist Chapel, can be found committing acts of injustice in his daily business, and perhaps more filthy deeds still? I will tell you, the man feels he must have some righteousness or other, and when he knows himself to be a good-for-nothing rascal, he feels he has not got a moral righteousness, and therefore he tries to get a ceremonial one. Mark the man that drinks and swears, that commits all kinds of iniquity, and you will very often find him (I have known such cases) the most superstitiously reverent man that can be found. without taking his hat off immediately. He would not go inside a place of worship perhaps, and it never pricks his conscience; but to walk up the aisle of a He will curse and swear outside, church with his hat on-oh! how frightful. He feels, if he did so, he would be lost for ever. He would not forget to tithe the mint, anise, and cummin, but all the while the weightier matters of the law are left totally unregarded. Another reason is, because a religion of ceremonies is so much easier than true religion. To say Ave Marias and Pater Nosters is easy enough; you may soon get it over, and it does not check the conscience much. To go to chapel twice on the Sunday-there is nothing very hard in that. It is not half so hard as turning to the Lord with full purpose of heart. It is not half so hard as breaking off one's sin by righteousness, and putting one's trust in Christ Jesus alone. Therefore, because the thing is so easy. people like it better. Again, it is so complimentary. When the Romanist beats his back, and flogs his flesh, why is it that he likes that better than the simple gospel, "Believe and live?" Why, because it just flatters his pride. He thinks he is beating the devil out of himself, but he is in reality beating him in-the devil of pride is coming in. He whispers, "Ah! you are a good man to have flogged yourself like that! you will carry yourself to heaven by the merit of your wounds and bruises." more exacting a religion is, the better people like it. The more religion ties you Poor human nature always like that. In fact, the up, and binds you, if it does not touch the heart, the better people like to carry it Hindooism has its great hold upon the people, because they can get a great stock of merit by walking with spikes in their shoes; or rolling themselves many thousands of miles, or drinking the filthy waters of the Ganges, or offering themselves to die. All these things please human nature. too humbling; to trust alone in Christ casts down man's high looks; therefore Believe and live" is man says, "Away with it!" and he turns to anything rather than to Christ. Besides, there is another reason. because it does not need the giving up of their favourite sins. " Men always like the religion of ceremonies, "if all that is needed for me to be saved, is to have the Sacrament given me by the Why," says a man, priest when I come to die, what a delightful religion that is! I can drink, swear, and do just as I like. I have nothing to do but to get greased at last with holy oil, and off I go to heaven with all my sins about me." Says another, "We can have all our gaities and frivolities, all the pomp of life and the pride of flesh; all that we need is to get confirmed; then, afterwards, sometimes to go to church, take a handsomely bound prayer-book and Bible, be very attentive and observant, and the bishop will no doubt set us all right." This just suits many men, because there is no trouble about it. They can keep on with their gaities and with their sins, and yet they believe they can go to heaven with them. Men do not like that oldfashioned gospel which tells them that sin and the sinner must part, or else they must be damned. They do not like to be told that without holiness no man shall out. 174 64 see the Lord, and that old-fashioned text, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God," will never be palatable to human nature. Human nature does not mind what you teli it to do, so long as you do not tell it to believe. You may tell it to observe this, that, and the other, and the man will do it, and thank you, and the harder it is, the better he will like you; but once tell him, "Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Believe on him and thou shalt be saved," his pride is all up at once; he cannot endure it, and he hates the man that preaches it to him, and drives the very thought of the gospel from his soul. III. And now, in the last place, it is mine to warn you that TO TRUST IN CERE MONIES IS A MOST DECEITFUL THING, AND WILL END IN THE MOST TERRIFIC CONSEQUENCES. When these people had got the ark into the camp, they shouted for joy, because they thought themselves quite safe; but, alas, they met with a greater defeat than before. Only four thousand men had been killed in the first battle, but in the second, thirty thousand footmen of Israel fell down dead. How vain are the hopes that men build upon their good works, and ceremonial observances! How frightful is that delusion which teaches for the gospel a thing which is not "the gospel," nor "another gospel," but it is a thing that would pervert the gospel of Christ. My hearer, let me ask thee solemnly, what is thy ground of hope? Dost thou rely on baptism? O man, how foolish art thou! What can a few drops of water, put upon an infant's forehead, do? Some lying hypocrites tell us that children are regenerated by drops of water. What kind of regeneration is that? We have seen people hanged that were regenerated in this fashion. There have been men that have lived all their lives whoremongers, adulterers, thieves, and murderers, who have been regenerated in their baptism by that kind of regeneration. Oh, be not deceived by a regeneration so absurd, so palpable even to flesh and blood, as one of the lying wonders that have come from hell itself. But mayhap thou sayest, "Sir. I rely upon my baptism, in after life." Ah, my friends, what can washing in water do? As the Lord liveth, if thou trustest in baptism thou trustest in a thing that will fail thee at last. For what is washing in water, unless it is preceded by faith and repentance? We baptize you. not in order to wash away your sins, but because we believe they are washed away beforehand; and if we did not think you believed so, we would not admit you to a participation in that ordinance. But if you will pervert this to your own destruction, by trusting in it, take heed; you are warned this morning. For as "circumcision availeth nothing, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature," so baptism availeth nothing. I may have some here who are saying within themselves, "Well, if I do not go to heaven, nobody will, for I have been brought up to my church as regularly as possible; I was regularly confirmed: my godfathers and godmothers stood for me in my childhood, and all after the right fashion. I have come here, it is true, but it is about the first offence I ever committed, coming into this Schismatic conventicle; if it please God to forgive, I will never do so again. I always go to church, and I have no doubt that by taking the Sacrament and saying my prayers I shall go to heaven." Ah! you are awfully deceived, for unless you are born again you must come back to the old standard after all-unless you are in blessed union with the Lamb, unless you have found repentance for sin, unless you have true living faith in the Lord Jesus, you may keep all these things, you may observe every jot and tittle, but the gates of heaven must be shut in your face, and "depart from me, I never knew you," must be your doom, even though you reply, “Thou hast eaten and drunken in our streets, and we have listened to thy voice." No, my friends, be ye Presbyterians, Episcopalians, or Dissenters, it matters not, ye have your ceremonies, and there are some among us that rely upon them. This one truth cuts at the root of us all. If this be our hope, it is a foul delusion. We must have faith in Jesus, we must have the new heart and the right spirit; no outward forms can make us clean. The leprosy lies deep within; and unless there be an inward work, no outward work can ever satisfy God, and give us an entrance into Paradise. But before I close, there is one thing I want you to notice, and that is, that this ark not only could not give victory to Isruel, but it could not preserve the lives of the priests themselves who carried it. This is a fatal blow to all who trust in the forms of religion. What would the Romanist think, if I should tell him that his outward forms can never save him; and how would he grind his teeth if I were to tell him, as I do, that the outward forms can never save his priest, for his priest and he must be lost together unless they have some better trust than this! But we have even in Protestant churches too much priestcraft. People say, "Well, if the Gospel does not save me, I am confident of the salvation of my minister." Rest assured that he that serveth at God's altar is no more secure from destruction, unless he hath a living faith in Christ, than you yourselves. Hophni and Phinehas are slain, and so must every priest be if he relies on ceremonies himself or teaches others to do so. I cannot imagine a more frightful death-bed than that of a man who has been a priest-I mean a man who has taught others to trust in ceremonies. When he is buried, it will be said of him that he died in sure and certain hope of a blessed resurrection; but oh! the moment after death, when he opens his eyes to see his delusion! while he was on earth he was fool enough to think that drops of water could save him, that a piece of bread and a cup of wine could renew his heart, and save his soul, but when he gets into another world he will lose this folly, and then will the thought flash upon him, like a lightning flash, writhing his soul with misery-Ah! I am destitute of the one thing needful; I had no love to Christ, I never had that repentance which needed not to be repented of; I never fled to Jesus, and now I know that that hymn is true "Not all the outward forms on earth, Nor rites that God has given, Oh! how frightful then afterwards to meet his parishioners, to see those to whom he has preached, and to be howled at through the pit by the men whom he was the instrument of destroying, by telling them to trust in a rotten foundation. Let me free myself from any such fear as that. As the Lord my God liveth before whom I stand this day-man, woman, my brother, my sister, in the race of Adam, if thou reliest on anything short of the blood of Jesus Christ, thou trustest in a lie; and if thy salvation ends in anything short of a thorough change of heart, if it makes thee anything less than a new creature in Christ Jesus, the bed is shorter than a man can stretch himself upon it, thou hast a religion which is not equal to the necessities of thy case, and when thou needest it most, it will reel beneath thy feet and leave thee without a standing place whereon to rest, overwhelmed with dismay and overcome by despair. Now, before I send you away, let me make this last remark. I hear one say, "Sir, I renounce all trust in good works and ceremonies. Tell me how can I be saved?" The way is simply this. Our sins deserve punishment; God must and will punish sin; Jesus Christ came into this world and was punished in the room, place, and stead of all that believe on him. Your business, then, this morning is to make this inquiry, Do I want a Saviour? Do I feel that I want him? And my business, if you answer that question aright is to say, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ with all thy heart, and thou shalt be saved. Ah! there is one in heaven to-day, I firmly believe, who was always a worshipper in this place, and at New Park Street-a young man who was led here to listen to the gospel, and was converted to God; and last Sabbath morning was caught away to heaven in the burning house at Bloomsbury-one of those young men who was taken out of the ruins, one who had been brought to a knowledge of the truth here. It is stated in some of the papers, that his mother was far from a religious woman, and was somewhat given to drink; he had to struggle with some temptation and opposition, but he was enabled to hold on his way, and then, in such an hour as he thought not, the Son of Man came for him, and caught him to himself in the midst of flames and crashing timbers and the uprising of smoke. Oh! I may have one here, that, ere another Sabbath morning comes, may be launched into eternity, if not by the same deplorable process, yet in as hasty a manner; and as my soul rejoices over that young man, to think that God should have honoured me in bringing him to Christ before he took him up to heaven, I must lament that there are any of you in a peril so frightful, as to be living without God, without Christ, without a hope of heaven; to have death hanging over you, and yet not to tremble at it. Oh! this morning I beseech you, close with Christ. "Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, while his wrath is kindled but a little: for blessed are all they that put their trust in him." A Sermon PREACHED ON WEDNESDAY AFfternoon, 7th APRIL, 1858, BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON, IN A LARGE BUILDING ERECTED FOR THE PURPOSE, WITHIN THE PIECE HALL, HALIFAX. RELYING upon the promised help of God's most Holy Spirit, I shall endeavour to address myself, this afternoon, principally to those who are sad at heart and sorrowful in spirit, and who have need of comfort. You know, when the pilgrims reached the Delectable Mountains, the shepherds came forth to them and said, "Come in, Mr. Fearing; come in, Mr. Ready-to-Halt; come in, Mr. Much Afraid; come in Mr. Despondency;" and they added some short words of comfort to cheer their hearts as they entered the shepherd's tent. But they very pithily said, "As for you, Mr. Greatheart, and you, Father Honest, we do not give you an invitation, though you are thoroughly welcome; for you are strong, and can take care of yourselves." I would act in the same spirit this afternoon; and while I know that those who are "strong in faith, giving glory to God," will be able to take for themselves comfort from God's most holy Word, I would turn especially to those whose faith wavers, and whose troubles are increased, and would say unto such, "Come in; rejoice in the promises; feed upon the rich things of God's Word, and make yourselves joyful in God." And in addressing myself to these characters, I have selected for them a text, which I think will be expressive of their peculiar condition they are saying, perhaps, in the words of the Psalmist, "My soul is full of troubles; my life draweth nigh unto the grave." It may be, they have made use of these very words; but if not, they are sufficiently applicable to allow me to ground upon them some words of comfort. : And now, thou heir of mourning-thou child of woe! permit me, first of all, to describe the state in which thou now art found; then, in the second place, let me try to find out how it is thou hast come into so awful a condition; and, in the third place, let me endeavour to help thee out, that thou mayest find joy and consolation, and no more hang thy head like a bulrush. In the first instance, then, let me describe the condition of those persons who are mourning and sorrowing. And I will commence with this remark-your condition to-day is a very general one; you are doubting, distressed, desponding; and you imagine that none other ever felt as you are feeling now. The self-conceit of misery is leading you to believe that you are one of the peers in the realm of woe; or, perhaps, you have even climbed the throne, and, putting the crown upon your own head, you have declared yourself to be the king of the realms of misery. "I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of Thine hand: behold, and see, was there ever sorrow like unto my sorrow?" My remark, then, will strike at your pride; but, at the same time, will afford you consolation. Your sorrows are not singular ones; others are enduring the same. The valley which you are now treading has been trodden by many feet before you entered it: your woes and agonies are no strange things, they have happened unto your fellow-men long beforetime; and if to none else, they have certainly happened to your Master, for "He was tempted in all points like as you are, yet without sin." Perhaps nothing has a greater power to comfort the mourner than to let him remember that others are in the same condition. Thou art not alone, oh mourner, however bad thy case; others suffer as thou dost suffer. Indeed, so common is the case that I am about to describe the case of a man under despondency of spirit-that I may safely remark, there is never a Christian who, some time or other, has not felt and said the same. You have looked up to the good deacon; you have heard him pray very sweetly, and have said, "Ah, if I could only pray like that man, I should never have a doubt!" You have listened to your minister when he has preached boldly concerning the "good things of the kingdom," and you have said, "Ah, if I only had the spirit of our minister, I should never have a despondency or a fear!" It is because you know nothing about it that you thus speak: he who can comfort you needs to be comforted himself; for many are they who, like Job, do comfort others, but "when it cometh upon them, they tremble; and when it toucheth them, they are sore afraid." Believe me when I say that God's wisest men are blown like the ashes by every gust of wind; and it is as much as even Great Faith himself can do sometimes to hold his own, and to believe that he has any part or lot in the matter of the kingdom of God. But I shall give you very poor comfort when I make the next announcement. Not only is this case very common, but it is very frequent to the same person. If you get out of your doubts and fears to-day, don't flatter yourself that you are out of the wood yet; don't begin to shout too soon, and say that you will never have any despondencies again. Uphill and downhill is the road to heaven; sometimes we get to Pisgah's top, "and view the landscape o'er," and think we have faith enough to leap to heaven at one spring; but, anon, we go down into the depths of the valleys, and the thunder-clouds brood over our heads, and sometimes empty themselves in tempest over our poor, quivering frames, and then we have not faith enough to do more than lay down and die. I know the young Christian always fancies, after he has got over his first trouble, that he will never have another; after he has picked his way pretty well through the slough of despondency, he thinks there will not be any more betwixt this place and heaven. If John Bunyan had put fifty sloughs betwixt the wicket-gate and the river of death, he would not have put too many, for there are quite as many as that. You must expect, many a time through life, to be cast down, and cry, "I sink down in deep mire, where there is no standing: I sink down into deep waters, where the floods overflow me: send down, O God, and deliver my soul;" for the righteous scarcely are saved; and their own experience is the best exposition of the difficulties of the way by which they reach heaven. But will you please to recollect that there is nothing surprising in the fact that a man is often desponding when he is going to heaven-a man cannot be anything in this world without sometimes being put to the right-about, and being made to feel that he can do little or nothing. Ask the wealthy merchant-he who has last accumulated a princely fortune-ask him whether he ever had a season of despondency while he was trying to grow rich; and he tells you, "Yes, dozens of times;" often his fortune has trembled in the balance and frequently it was "make or break" with him, bankruptcy or great success. Ask the politician, bo, whether he found it easy work to win fame; and he will tell you, "No;" often his election has been, as it were, cast on the throw of a die-whether to be prosperous and ride through the world on the wings of applause, or to be disgraced and covered with infamy, he could not tell. He tried to do the right thing for success; but how the right thing would act he did not know. Ask the engineer whether he ever discovered any great thing without a world of despondency; and he will tell you how he sat up night after night, until his brain became racked, and he has said to himself, "Ah, I have got it ;" and again, "No, I have not ;" he has discovered some small flaw, and has been again and again disappointed. He tries once more; this time he invests all his little earnings in making a model of his machine. He knows it is good; but he can get no one to take it off him, no one to help him; and the very man who afterwards becomes the greatest of his time in engineering, is sometimes fain to make his account with the mire of the streets, because he thinks he will not succeed. And seeing all this, is there to be no trouble in ascending that holy hill, that "hill of God which is a high hill, even as the hill of Bashan?" Must we fight for a crown of earth, and are we to win the crown of heaven without battle? Must we be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease? Certainly not. Despondency and doubt, trouble and dismay, must overtake us, for before success there must come tribulation. So you see there is no wonder that the Christian man is sometimes cast down-no marvel that in so great a work, with such a little strength of our own, we should sometimes fear lest victory should never be ours! But now I will try if I cannot find out exactly what your case is, and I wonder whether I shall hit upon it. It was only a few weeks ago that a city missionary, going through the west of London, discovered a fact which has supplied me with a memorable anecdote. I know it to be true, and I believe that God the Holy |