Sermon 4. - Awake, Thou That Sleepest.

wrath of God in your unawakened state? O, you are mistaken; death, by grasping your mortal body, before you are aware, may plunge you in an instant where there is no place for repentance, mercy, and salvation. Hang no longer in suspense, then; if the world and the devil, the prince of the world, be gods, follow them; but if Jehovah, if Jesus Christ is the Lord, “deny yourselves, and sin not;” according to his command, “take up your cross daily and follow him,” till you overtake him, and he blesses you with the pardon of all your sins, and a new heart. Seek him till you find him in your souls; walk with him till you cleave to him, till you can say with the true spouse of Christ, “My beloved is mine, and I am his;” till you abide in him as a branch in the vine, and are enabled “to bear much fruit,” even all the fruits of “righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.” This is the kingdom of grace within us, through which we shall infallibly enter into that of glory through Jesus Christ our Lord.

SERMON 4. - AWAKE, THOU THAT SLEEPEST.

“Awake, thou that sleepest!” Ephesians 5:14.

I DESCRIBED, in my last discourse, the state of an unconverted man, called, in Scripture, a “natural man;” or, in other words, the state of one who neither loves nor fears God; who, hanging over everlasting destruction only by the thread of life, lives unconcerned, being buried in worldly cares or pleasures, and bound down in his spiritual grave by stupidity, presumption, and sin; who fondly thinks that he shall go to heaven without becoming a new creature, and in that hope securely sleeps on upon the very brink of eternal ruin; fancying, perhaps, that the false peace which he enjoys is “the peace of God which passes all understanding.” And I proved, that if his false peace be not broken, if he be not awakened out of that deep spiritual sleep he is in; if he be not convinced that he is in a state of condemnation, and cannot escape the second deaths unless Christ causes him to pass from darkness to light, he has not the least ground to hope that the curse, which follows every natural man, shall not overtake and sink him into hell in the day of judgment. Now the next thing we must do is to consider how he may be awakened into a real desire to “work his salvation out with fear and trembling.” It is not in his power, brethren, or in that of any man living, to do that work of himself; here must the omnipotence of God begin to interpose, the Spirit of Jesus must make the wound as well as bind it up, for he is alone the “author and finisher of our salvation.” It is true, he has various ways of calling a sinner, and of crying to him, while he hides himself behind the trees of his performances, and the pitiful fig leaves of his own righteousness, “Adam [natural man] where art thou?” But he alone can speak to the heart, and make the outward call effectual. Nothing but the convincing Spirit of God can force a stupid sinner to exclaim, in the anguish of his soul, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.” Nevertheless, it is highly necessary for us to know by what means the Spirit of God usually thus awakes drowsy sinners, that if we have been such, we may humble ourselves for having hardened our hearts against those means to this day, and pay them a due regard for the future. I shall therefore, first, consider what they are, and then conclude by exhorting you not to resist or abuse them any more.

Though the ways in which God awakens sinners are very numerous, yet they can be distinguished in general into extraordinary and ordinary ones. A man may be awakened in an extraordinary way by an unexpected and terrifying sight, as was St. Paul on his journey to Damascus; by a gracious thought darted into his heart on a sudden: thus was St. Peter stopped in the full career of his sin by a look from Christ, which confounded him, and caused him to retire and weep bitterly; by some extraordinary Providence, as the jailer at Philippi, who, feeling the prison tremble, came himself trembling, and, falling down before Paul and Silas, cried out, “What must I do to be saved?” Or, as some who, hearing of the dreadful earthquake which destroyed Lisbon, November 1, 1735, and buried alive, in a heap of ruins, so many thousands, who, ten minutes before, thought themselves as safe as we do now, were immediately brought to consider, and say, “Were God to lay his hand upon me in the same manner now, should I be ready for death and judgment?” And the Spirit of God, improving their fear, impressed on their hearts a lively sense of the necessity of their “preparing to meet their God,” and “giving all diligence to make their calling and election sure.” Some have been awakened in an uncommon manner, by receiving an unexpected token of God’s goodness and patience, by restoring them from a desperate fit of illness, or by wonderfully preserving them in some imminent danger. For though such mercies are generally overlooked and forgotten, yet one, perhaps, in a thousand, remembers them for good, and spends to the glory of God the life which his long suffering remarkably preserved. A few more have been awakened by feeling, when retired from the noise of the world, I know not what uneasiness and trouble of mind, whereby, perceiving that nothing had yet filled the boundless capacity of their minds, or satisfied their desires, and that the world could never make them happy, they were brought to conclude that they wanted Christ; and that nothing but the enjoyment of the favour and love of God could give them that peace and comfort which the world neither knows nor enjoys. Some again have been struck with a deep sense of their danger, and a true desire “to flee from the wrath to come,” by reading something striking concerning the state of their souls in a book of devotion, or by opening the Bible on some threatening of the law, as, “Cursed is he that doth not persevere in all the things that are written in the book of the law to do them;” or some condition of the Gospel, as, “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God;” which being applied to their hearts by the power of God, did not suffer them to rest till they rested in Christ.

These, and many more, are the extraordinary ways in which sinners may be, and sometimes are, awakened out of their spiritual sleep, and made to consider their latter end; but we may very well look on them as miracles of grace, which we have little room to expect God will work on our behalf; especially as his ordinary method is to work in a more common way; by affliction, by Christian conversation, and by the preaching of his word. Blessed be the mercy of God, many are those who can say with David, “It was good for me to be afflicted.” The loss of a husband, wife, parent, child, has engaged some to make their peace with God, that they might live and die in his favour, and meet their departed friends at his right hand. Some unexpected and grievous calamity has opened the eyes of others to see their sinfulness and guilt, and give glory to God by confessing it. Thus Manasses, that monster of wickedness, who had filled Jerusalem with blood, when he was stripped of his royal robes, and carried away into captivity, cried out, under a load of chains and sin, “Spare me, spare me, O Lord,” till God answered in mercy, and made him as great a monument of repentance as he had been before of sin and iniquity. In the like manner proud Nebuchadnezzar, when he was reduced to the condition of a beast, and wandered in the fields forsaken of all, was brought at last to a true contrition and humiliation before the God of heaven and earth, and began to worship him in spirit and in truth, issuing a decree that every knee should bow before him in all his dominions. Such is the power of afflictions to bring a fallen man to the knowledge of himself, and make him perceive his want of the favor and love of God.

The New Testament also affords us several instances of the truth of this observation. There the prodigal son, when reduced to so wretched a state as to have no clothing but rags, and no food but the husks intended for the swine, bethinks himself of returning to his father, with a penitent confession of his sin and folly, and an humble request for pardon and acceptance, not indeed to be treated as a son, but as a hired servant. Poor Lazarus, when the dogs licked his sores, and when he sees that no relief is to be expected at the hands of man, secures a place in Abraham’s bosom, and thinks of feeding on God by faith, since he cannot feed on the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table. Thus the man, also, sick of the palsy, gets himself carried to Jesus, and hears those words, “Go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee,” which he would not have heard had he not been afflicted with sickness. And the woman, who had spent all her substance upon physicians, presses at last after our Saviour, touches him, and is healed both in soul and body, rejoicing that her faith had made her whole. Thus some of you, I hope, finding that you had nothing but troubles, sorrows, disappointments, sickness, hard labour, and poverty for your portion here, may at last have thought of securing the better part with Mary, that better part never to be taken from you. For why should an afflicted soul choose to have tribulation here, and the everlasting miseries of hell hereafter? Why should the poor refuse to be rich in grace? Why should he, who gets by the sweat of his brow the clothes he has upon his back, reject the robe of Christ’s righteousness? Why should he, that eats the bread of labour and affliction, refuse to eat the food of angels, the bread that comes down from heaven? And yet, (O amazing reflection! O killing thought!) perhaps some of you that are poor, are even poorer in grace than in silver and gold. Perhaps, notwithstanding the mercy of God that has placed you in a state where every thing invites you to make God your friend and to take Christ for your portion, you are as attached to this world as if you had great possessions in it, and have not yet seriously endeavoured to fix your hearts where true joys and lasting riches are to be found. But if this be the case, blessed be the mercy of God, you are still poor and afflicted; there is then still some hope that you will consider, and that your heavenly Father will not give over striking you with the rod of his judgment, till you awake and give him all you have to give, and all he asks of you, your heart.

But if afflictions are such unspeakable blessings, let us stop a little, brethren, to pity the rich, the healthy the young, with whom all things go according to their desires in the world, and who, because they want nothing for the body, do not feel the want of Christ for their souls. Sad, sad beyond expression, is your state. whatever vou may think of it. With Dives, you have your pleasure in this life - O may God grant that, with him, you may not have your torments in the next! O may he awaken you out of your sinful prosperity; may he lay some of his fatherly chastisements also upon you, ere it be too late, and save your immortal souls by afflicting your mortal bodies! May he smite—— But the concern I have for you carries me too far. Why should I form such a wish, since there are yet two other ways by which God can bring you to a sense of that misery you do not feel, and stir you up to seek that true happiness which you leave unregarded, to pursue a vain shadow!

The first is Christian conversation. A child of God may, if you will suffer him to speak, show you the bottom of your heart, and the folly of your hopes, so that you will be forced to cry out, as the woman of Samaria, “Behold, I have found one that has told me all things that ever I did;” for one that has found Christ can, if you will hear him, tell you what the Lord has done for his soul, and what he must do for yours. Thus, in the Gospel, Andrew told Peter, “I have found the Christ, the Son of God, come and see;” and Peter, upon his word, went and followed Jesus until he could say for himself, “Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee.” May thus the Lord send you one who has entered at the strait gate, to say to thou with the demonstration of his Spirit, “This is the way, walk in it;” and may you, like Peter, take the advice and follow on till you are admitted into the heavenly Jerusalem.

But, brethren, suppose the natural man is not awakened by conversing with Christians alive to God, which he will seldom do, because such Christians are very rarely to be met with in these faithless times, and because his contempt for them will hardly permit him to give ear or credit to their words; yet there is another great means of conviction, by which the Lord may still call him to repentance and life, namely, the preaching of the Gospel; and this, indeed, is the most common way of all, a way that God has chiefly blessed in all ages, and still blesses in our days. A man comes to church as he has done a thousand times, because it is his custom so to do on Sundays, and he thinks he can squander away the remainder of the Lord’s Sabbath with a good conscience, if he can but say, “I was at church morning and evening;” or, perhaps, he comes to indulge his curiosity, and hear what every minister has to say; not with any desire that God would manifest himself unto him, that he would teach him to know himself, a poor, benighted, perishing, yet never - dying soul; not with any concern about getting an interest in the favour of that God who is a consuming fire to the unregenerate; of that God before whom his naked soul shall soon be dragged by the cold hand of death. No, he never thought of this; it never came into his head that he should wait upon God in his holy temple, as the vilest of sinners, a sinner under sentence of eternal death, is to wait upon the Majesty of heaven and earth, to ask, beg, implore a reprieve, if by any means he may be spared a week longer, to seek for repentance and pardon for glory and immortality. No, he did not think of any one of these things, but he comes with an intent to behave as usual, to see and to be seen, to show all the signs of the most listless, careless indifference. Though he seems to use a prayer to God for his blessing on what he is entering upon; he comes either to fall asleep during the awful service, or to recline in the most convenient posture for it; and sometimes, as though he supposed God to be asleep too, he comes to talk to another, or look round as utterly void of employment; or, at best, he comes to say his prayers, as he calls it, that is, to kneel or to stand, because others do so, and repeat with his lips, without any true concern of heart, the most moving pleas for mercy. But though he rushes into the presence of God with these shameful antichristian dispositions, yet he is upon the Lord’s ground, though he is insensible of it; and the dread of that Lord, whom the heavenly hosts cannot behold without veiling their faces, and prostrating themselves with the deepest acts of adoration; the dread of that God, whose eyes are like a flame of fire, who with one look tries the hearts and searches the reins; the dread of that Lord whom he has so long insulted in his very temple, may rest upon him in a moment, and he may at last apprehend it to be “a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” In spite of his presumption and carelessness, God may bless the word of his servant, and send it home to his hardened conscience, so that he shall tacitly own that he is a slothful and wicked servant, who has hitherto done despite to the Spirit of grace; and, perhaps, for the first time, seeing the necessity of “working out his salvation with fear and trembling,” he may say from the bottom of his heart, “Spare us, good Lord, and be not angry with us for ever.” In this manner has God blessed the preaching of the Gospel in all ages. Thus while St. Peter preached at Jerusalem, three thousand of those who a few weeks before cried, “Crucify him, crucify him,” were cut to the heart, and cried, in the anguish of their souls, “Men and brethren, what shall we do to be saved?” Thus, while St. Paul preached at Athens, Dionysius believed his report; and while he delivered the word at Lystra, the Lord opened Lydia’s heart to understand and believe. Happy then, brethren, happy will you be, if at any time the Lord alarms your drowsy consciences, and gives you the least measure of spiritual feeling, though it should be but some dread of his majesty, or shame of your ingratitude, or fear of his vengeance. Do not resist the touch of his mighty hand, lest he cut you off in his sore displeasure, “if his wrath be kindled, yea, but a little.” Ah! do not harden your hearts, as Felix, who, when he heard St. Paul discourse on righteousness, temperance, and the judgment to come, was brought to tremble before God, and yet got nothing by his trembling, but a greater condemnation; for, soon stifling the remorse of his conscience, he said to the apostle, “Go thy way for this time, when I have a convenient season I will call for thee.” O brethren, let none of you imitate his madness. Methinks he now lifts up his voice above the shrieks of those who are condemned with him to eternal weeping; methinks he cries to every one of us, “Now is the convenient season for you, now is the hour of salvation; improve it as it flies, lest it should be gone, and gone for ever!” Alas, this was his deplorable case, he quenched the Spirit of God, and God gave him up to a reprobate mind, for his Spirit does not always strive with man. The “convenient season” he spoke of never came again; he soon forgot Paul and his words, and not long after put an end to his life, madly hurrying to that judgment, the very thoughts of which made him once tremble. And which of us dares say, that this shall not be the last hour in which God will strive with him? Which of us has made a covenant with death, and engaged him not to strike his heart before this day is over, or with hell that it shall not swallow him up? Is God a man, that he should lie? Is he like one of the sons of men, that he should break the most solemn declarations of his word? “Turn ye,” he says by his prophets, “turn ye, every one from his wicked way, and I will abundantly pardon; turn ye unto me, for why should ye die, O house of Israel?” thus stooping to invite rebellious man to himself, and intreating him to return lest he should die. But if man answers, “Am I a heathen, that I should want to be turned to God; am I a drunkard or a murderer, that he should send me such a command?” I say, if man do not turn to God wholly, soul, body, and spirit, seeking all his happiness in his favour, and walking with him all the day long; surely that book comes from the father of lies, or he shall perish in his iniquity; for who can misunderstand these plain declarations of God’s word? Psalm 7:12, “God is angry with the wicked all the day long; if he turn not, he will whet his sword; nay, he has bent his bow and made it ready, he has prepared for him the instruments of death.” And who are those wicked? You find it in the tenth Psalm, “The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God;” and a little before, “The wicked shall be turned into hell, with all the people that forget God.” Now, who will awake from his sleep, from the dream of his fancied goodness? Who will give glory to the loving God, and own that he is still among the wicked, because he never truly sought the Lord? Hear how David sought his God: “My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. My heart breaketh for the very fervent desire that I have for thy law. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, yea, for the living God. O when shall I come and appear before God!”

Now I ask you, before the Searcher of hearts, if this be seeking God, did you ever seek God in sincerity? Do you think you seek him when you come into his house with the shameful dispositions I mentioned? Alas! so far from seeking him, you bid him depart from you; you mock him in his very temple; for though you know that Christ does not dwell in you nor you in him; though you know that your heart is far from him at the very time that you make as if you worshipped him with all your soul; yet so far from being troubled at your hypocrisy, through the pride of your heart you cry, “Peace, peace,” and persuade yourself that you do not need to seek God in another manner. O awake from that delusion, throw off the mask in the Lord’s presence, and own yourself ripe for destruction. This is the first step toward that true repentance which shall never be repented of. O if you could be prevailed upon to take it in this hour, how soon would it lead you to inward vital religion; how surely would it introduce you to the presence of a reconciled God, and give you, in the enjoyment of Christ, a foretaste of the joys of heaven! But alas! hitherto you have resisted all the calls of God. Yes, brethren, nothing, I fear, has made a lasting impression upon the minds of some of you; neither the Lord’s mercies, nor his judgments; neither the deliverances from imminent dangers he has granted you, nor the death of many dear friends, which he permitted to fall into the grave in your presence, beckoning to you to prepare to follow them. But though neither the threatenings nor the Promises of his holy word have hitherto been able to awake you into a true concern for your immortal souls, - into a lively sense of God’s fear, and a real desire of giving yourselves up to him: yet if you are willing to awake now, if now you own yourselves undone; if you have nothing to plead but “God be merciful to me a sinner:” if you resolve to plead this continually till he seals the forgiveness of your sins to your heart; if you are willing to be saved upon any terms; in a word, if you truly repent, God is willing to cast the mantle of his love over what is past, to sink all your sins into the sea of his mercy, and love you freely after all your wanderings; nay, and to rejoice over you as a good shepherd over a poor returning sheep, which he thought lost for ever, and to enable you to delight in him a thousand times more than you ever did in all the pleasures of sin. Choose then between life and death, eternity and time, God and the world; choose, but be sincere and wise in your choice; O choose life, God, and eternity. The angels of God, nay, God himself, fix their eyes upon you in this moment; they consider whether you will be barbarous enough to your own soul to prefer the world and the trifles it offers, as you have hitherto done, to heaven and the endless joys that wait for you there. Nay, Jesus Christ, who is always where two or three are gathered together in his name, stands before you, with his vesture dipt in blood, and waits to see if his agony and bloody sweat, his wounds and sufferings, his tears and strong cries, his cross and passion, shall have any effect upon you: to see whether you will not at last resolve to part even with the most pleasing sins, rather than not to come to him, choose him, and enjoy him for your portion for ever. Ah! let him not wait in vain: rather let us lift up our hearts together to him, and say, “Lord, turn us, and so shall we be turned!” Are you willing? Show it, by renouncing sin, and beginning to make conscience of keeping your baptismal vow. Will you become true Christians, the members of the Lord Jesus, the temples of the Holy Ghost? Let the world go; you cannot serve two masters. What have you to do with the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, with the pride of dress, balls and plays, cards and useless visits? Leave these things to those who choose to sleep on; they belong not to an awakened simmer, to one who sees him self with one foot in time and the other in eternity, just going to receive sentence of eternal death or endless life. What have you to do with the devil and all his works, with lying, evil speaking, and slandering, with pride and passion, with envy and strife, with revenge and covetousness, with cursing and swearing, with Sabbath breaking and profaneness? All these are the works of the devil. O keep these his commandments no more; leave them to those who choose to have their portion in the eternal fire prepared for him and his angels, and be you