MERCY AND JUSTICE.
BRETHREN.—If I should compare the natural state of man, I should conceive of an immense grave-yard, filled with yawning sepulchres and dead and dying men. All around are lofty walls, and massive iron gates. At the gate stands Mercy—sad spectatress of the melancholy scene. An angel flying through the midst of heaven, attracted by the awful sight, exclaims, “Mercy! why do you not enter and apply to these objects of compassion the restoring balm?” Mercy replies, “Alas! I dare not enter—Justice bars the way.” By her side a form appeared, like unto the Son of Man. “Justice,” he cried, “what are thy demands, that Mercy may enter and stay the carnival of death?” “I demand,” said Justice, “pain for their ease, degradation for their dignity, shame for their honour, death for their life.” “I accept the terms: now, Mercy, enter.”—”What pledge do you give for the performance of these conditions?” “My word—my oath.” “When will you fulfil them?” “Four thousand years hence, on the hill of Calvary.” The bond was sealed in the presence of attendant angels, and committed to patriarchs and prophets. A long series of rites and ceremonies, sacrifices and oblations, was instituted, to preserve the memory of that solemn deed; and at the close of the four thousandth year, behold, at the foot of Calvary, the incarnate Son of God! Justice, too, was there, presenting the dreadful bond to the Redeemer, and demanding the fulfilment of its awful terms. He accepted the deed, and together they ascended to the summit
of the mount. Mercy was seen attendant at His side, and the weeping Church followed in His train. When He reached the top, what did He with the bond? Did He tear it in pieces, and scatter it to the winds of heaven? O no! He nailed it to His Cross. And when the wood was prepared, and the devoted willing sacrifice stretched on the tree, Justice sternly cried, “Holy Fire, come down from heaven, and burn this sacrifice.” Holy fire replied, “I come! I come!—and when I have consumed this sacrifice, I will burn the universe.” The fire descended, and rapidly consumed His humanity; but when it touched His Deity, it expired! Then did the heavenly hosts break forth in rapturous strains—”Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, and good-will towards men!”—Christmas Evans.
STRENGTH OF CHRIST’S LOVE.
“Be it known unto thee,” said Justice, “that though thou comest to thine own as their Saviour, yet Thou must dwell with the cattle at Thy first entrance; a manger shall be Thy cradle, and rags Thy clothing.” However, the Surety did not decline in the least at this, but answered, “I am perfectly willing, for the sake of my people, to undergo even that treatment.” “If Thou goest into a world that is under the curse,” said the Law, “Thou shalt not have a place to lay Thy head upon; yea, Thou shalt be the object of the utmost wrath, malice, and envy of creatures that are supported by Thee every moment.”—He answers, “O! my pure Law, I am willing to endure all that also.” “But,” said Justice, “Thou must sweat great drops of blood on a cold night in a garden; and Thy enemies shall spit in Thy face, they shall scourge Thy sacred back, and crown Thy blessed head with thorns! Yea, Thy own disciples, even after seeing Thy great miracles, and hearing Thy heavenly doctrines, will forsake Thee when in the greatest difficulty and distress! Yea, one of them will even sell Thee; and another will deny Thee, cursing and swearing most fiercely he does not know Thee.”—”Yet,” exclaims the Surety, “notwithstanding all this unkindness and cruelty, I will not withdraw from my engagement; no, not on any account: repentance shall be hid from mine eyes.”
Law and Justice now testify together, saying, “O! Thou, the glorious object of the adoration and praise of all the heavenly host, and the infinite delight of God Thy Father, if Thou wilt actually enter upon this suretyship, all the powers of hell will be in array against Thee to assail Thee, and even the unmixed wrath of heaven will be poured out upon Thy soul and body on the cross; yea, to tell thee all, the last drop even of Thy heart’s blood shall be shed! The unspeakable agony of all this Thou must endure!”—And now, my dear hearers, who can, without astonishment, think of this gracious Surety engaging, in the face of all these dreadful storms, to undertake the mighty work?—think that, in the full view of all these most alarming and painful sufferings, He should exclaim, “I am perfectly willing?”—Daniel Rowlands.
THE LOVE OF GOD.
The love of God, and the love of the creature, are essentially different. The creature loves, that he may fill himself; God loves, that He may fill the object of His affection. The love of the creature goes abroad, and says, I am empty! I am empty! and I want that object to fill me up. But the love of God cries out, I am full! I am full! bring the empty creatures to me, that I may eternally fill them from myself. Divine Power—make them ready for me! Mercy—look for them, that I may satisfy them! Men love those that are like themselves; God loved sinners who were utterly dissimilar to Him; these He loved, to change them into His own image. Though the objects of God’s love were perfectly worthless in themselves, His love raised them to the greatest worth. They were vile and wretched—precious in no eyes but in those of Divine love; but then, love gave the Son for them. “Who loved me, and gave himself for me,” saith Paul.—David Charles, Carmarthen.
GOD IN HIS ORDINANCES MANIFESTING HIMSELF.
A spiritual manifestation of the glory of God is something that flesh and blood cannot impart. The Shechinah in the sanctuary was something that could not be portrayed. Others could make an ark similar to the ark of the covenant; they
could prepare tables of stone, and engrave letters resembling those that were there; they could make a mercy-seat and cherubims. But no man could make the glory. That was a divine something, which no human art could understand nor imitate. It is so yet, when God appears in the ordinances of the Gospel. Ungodly men may compose and deliver sermons as well as the best of preachers. But there is something, when God manifests Himself in the means of grace, that mere talent can never produce, and which the world knows not; there is a shining which is above the power of gift and abilities. The god of this world blinds “the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.” Then it is that salvation comes by hearing, when the glory of God in Christ shines into the mind. And therefore this is it that Satan is afraid of at our meetings for worship—the light shining into the heart. Ah! if the devil should speak out in our language, he would defy me in this place, and show that he fears me not; he would laugh at our puny exertions: he fears nothing, but Divine light entering into the soul. Well, O Lord God, it is a battle with us to-day! Satan is already here, and he is the most wakeful of all our hearers; his sole purpose is to hinder the light. Our own God, who art stronger than the god of this world, send in the light! This would make Satan flee away. O, for the light from above! “What is it?” asks somebody. Indeed, I cannot answer; it is something that cannot be described, but it exemplifies itself wherever it shines. O, may it come! may it come! What if the veil were drawn off, that this congregation might see the glory of Christ as a Saviour? What running would be after Him! what loving of Him! and what showing forth of His praises.—John Elias.
Never was faithful prayer lost at sea. Some prayers, indeed, have a longer voyage than others, but then return with the richest lading at last.—Gurnall.