Edward Hoare

‘Unto the church of God which is at Corinth, to them that are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, both their’s and our’s.’—1 Cor. i. 2.

I hope it has been made clear that the original meaning of the word ‘to sanctify,’ was ‘to set apart as a holy thing unto God,’ and that the Levitical meaning of sanctification through blood was the cleansing from all legal impurity. It is obvious that both these divine acts clearly involve personal holiness.

That which is set apart by the call of God, and cleansed from all guilt, should clearly be kept holy and undefiled from the pollution both of the heart and of the world. Such persons should be like the vessels of the sanctuary: ‘sanctified and meet for the Master’s use.’

This leads us to that which is the ordinary meaning of the term in religious books: viz. personal holiness. By personal holiness is meant the sacred work of God the Holy Ghost within the soul; the reflection of the character of our Blessed Lord; the law put into the inward part, and written on the heart by the Spirit of God. This is the meaning of such texts as 1 Thess. v. 23: ‘The very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ The separation is a past act, for if we are in Christ Jesus, we have been already separated unto God; but this is an abiding condition, for real holiness is a present matter of daily life. Now both these parts of sanctification are brought out in the words which I have read as our text, for it is addressed ‘to them that are,’ or have been, ‘sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints.’ The first clause refers to the past act, and represents those believers as having been set apart unto God, or separated as a peculiar people unto Himself; the second describes their present condition as inseparable from their high calling; for, having been set apart, they are now called to be the saints of God. I need not stop to point out that the word ‘saints,’ is not limited in Sacred Scripture to those who are in heaven. Still less has it to do with the canonization of Rome, or the seclusion of a monastery. It describes the personal holiness of the Christian in common life, the habitual character of the man walking with God; as in those words of the Apostle Peter (1 Pet. i. 15): ‘Be ye holy;’ or be ye saints, ‘in all manner of conversation.’ So that our text means the same as if it had been written, ‘To them that have been set apart unto God in Christ Jesus their Saviour, and who, as the result of that sacred call, are now leading holy lives in His presence.’

My object this morning will be simply to trace the connexion between these two steps of God’s sacred work: the past separation unto Him, and the present personal holiness of character. And all I can say is, may the Lord help us in our own experience to understand both of them, and then we shall have no difficulty in perceiving how they are bound together in the work of Salvation!

We shall find them connected by a principle and a power.I. A Principle. It is perfectly clear, as a matter of principle, that there ought to be holiness in all that is consecrated to God. He consecrated, or set apart unto Himself, the Sabbath day, and so He says, ‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.’ The Temple, like our own churches, was consecrated to God, and therefore we read, ‘Holiness becometh Thine house for ever.’ The vessels of the Temple were dedicated, or sanctified to His service, and therefore they should not be touched by unhallowed hands, and the words of sacred Scripture are, ‘Be ye clean, that bear the vessels of the Lord.’ On these principles we none like to see a neglected church, a dishonoured Bible, or a careless attitude, in the house of God. On the same principles, we should all be profoundly humbled when unhallowed thoughts,—thoughts of the world, thoughts of vanity, of jealousy, or of self,—in any shape intrude into holy things, and corrupt those sacred hours which are set apart exclusively to God. But if this applies to consecration generally, how pre-eminently does it apply to such a consecration as that described in the text, in which we are said to be ‘sanctified in Christ Jesus.’ That sanctification is the introduction of the ruined sinner into a covenant union with the Son of God. If you have been thus sanctified in Christ Jesus, you no longer stand alone, to bear your own burden, or plead your own cause. You have been separated from the ruined world, and identified with the Lord Jesus; so that He represented you in bearing your curse when He suffered, and He now represents you at the right hand of the throne of God, while He pleads on your behalf. Thus you are cleansed from all legal guilt. You are sanctified by blood, and charged with no defilement. By the eternal covenant of God He is become your Head, so that in His death you died; in His life you live; in His acceptance you are justified; and in His glory you are glorified.

But, if you are thus separated unto such a union with Him, is there any room left for one moment’s doubt as to what ought to be your character? If you are set apart by Him into this covenant union with Himself, you are set apart into a oneness of mind, of will, and of interest. He represents you in heaven, and you represent Him on earth; as God sees you in Him, so the world sees Him in you. You bear His name; you are sealed with the seal of the covenant; you are made a peculiar people unto the Son of God: and I am sure we must all see the justice of those words of the Apostle Peter, ‘As He who hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation.’

II. Power. But here lies the difficulty. You really wish to be holy, but you are not; you have endeavoured to overcome your temper, but it is still there; you have striven against wandering thoughts in prayer, but they still interfere most mournfully with your most sacred acts of worship; you wish, and you mean to be, unselfish, but you find selfishness continually cropping up, to your sorrow and vexation of spirit. Now, the question is,—How is this to be overcome? Your resolves will not do it, for you have made hundreds, and failed in them all; and no man on earth can do it for you, for the evil lies far too deep for the reach of man. What then is to be done? We may turn back to our text, and there learn the secret, for in those words, ‘In Christ Jesus,’ we are taught the power.

We learned, in studying the first act of separation, that it was the work of God the Holy Ghost: here it is said to be in Christ Jesus. Some people dwell more on the distinction than I am myself disposed to do: there is such a perfect oneness in the infinite God, that I confess I have but little heart for these refined distinctions. As the Father and the Son are one, so God the Son and God the Holy Ghost are one; and when the Lord Jesus saves the sinner, it is the Holy Ghost that applies that salvation to the soul. Without stopping, therefore, to study any such distinction, let us rather hasten to the practical lesson that sanctification, or consecration, here described, is a sanctification in Jesus Christ. You may look thus to your covenant union with Him, and trust Him by the in-breathing of His own Spirit to make you holy. You may remember that He came to save you from your sins, and not merely from their curse; and that holiness is just as much a gift of the covenant as pardon.

You remember those words, 1 Cor. i. 30: ‘But of Him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption.’ They teach us that the Lord Jesus is the source of all practical wisdom and holiness, just as much as of imputed righteousness and redemption. The passage is clearly not speaking of an imputed wisdom, and we have no right to apply it to an imputed sanctification. It refers to the practical wisdom and personal holiness of the man who by God’s grace is wise and holy; and teaches that both one and the other are found exclusively in Christ Jesus.

You may, therefore, trust the Lord Jesus Christ for your sanctification just as much as for your justification; for your personal holiness in daily life, as well as for your safety in the great day of judgment. Look carefully then unto your covenant union with Christ, and think on Him as your covenant Head: then spread out all your difficulties and temptations before Him as your Head. Acknowledge before Him how you have dishonoured His headship by your evil thoughts, your evil words, and your constant failures; and trust Him, as your Head, to form in you His image, and by His own most Holy Spirit to give you the victory. Do not stand at a distance, thinking it your duty to doubt your union, for by so doing you will never overcome. Without that union you will never know what victory means. I am assuming now that in the secret of your own souls you have been verily engrafted into Christ. I know you were sacramentally in baptism, but I am looking deeper than that, for many who are baptized are never saved, and I am speaking now of the real saving union of your soul with Christ Himself. Now, if that is yours through His wonderful grace, accept it, act upon it, trust Him as your living Head; and you will find, as time goes on, that though you cannot overcome, He can; and that He will finally present you, ‘holy and unblameable before Him at His coming.’ But here we are brought to the old difficulty,—that you have no real evidence in your soul of the existence of such a union with Christ. You know there is your baptismal union, but still you cannot feel safe, and you greatly doubt whether you are amongst those who have been ‘Sanctified in Christ Jesus: called to be saints.’ This is the reason why many of you cannot come to the sacred feast of the Supper of the Lord, and why many others, who do come, come with a heavy heart. Would to God we might see those absent ones brought near, and those heavy hearts gladdened by the Lord! But in order to that you must grapple at once with the great question of your own personal salvation,—your separation unto God. Till that is settled you will be powerless against yourself. Till you are in Christ, and sanctified in Christ Jesus, you will never be sanctified at all. If you really desire to be really holy, for the sake of that holiness begin at the beginning, and never rest till you are safe. Your safety must come before your holiness, or you will wait for it for ever. Begin therefore with the prayer, ‘Lord, save me: I perish.’ Throw yourself into His hand for pardon, for acceptance, for life. Never rest till you can appropriate the language of St. Paul: ‘Who hath saved me, and called me with an holy calling.’ And, when that is given, you may go on to those other words of the same Apostle, and say, ‘According as He hath chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love.’

PROGRESS.

‘But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.’—2 Cor. iii. 18.

The subject of personal holiness is one of overwhelming interest to all those who really desire to walk with God; it is also one which requires our most careful study, for in it lies the chief difficulty of the daily Christian life of the greater number of true believers. They know the truth, and love it; they prize their Saviour far above all that the world can give; they are ready either to live or die in His service; but yet they are so conscious of the power of indwelling sin that sometimes they are led almost to doubt the reality of their Christianity, and begin to question whether they really love their Lord at all. For the help of such persons it seems clearly a duty to look carefully into the subject, and I pray God that He may help us to do so this morning.

This text will supply us with so much instruction that we will not attempt to examine other passages, but will endeavour to gather from it the standard, the progress, the means, and the power of Christian holiness. May God so bless His word, as to make us holy by His Spirit!

I. The Standard. How many a noble ship has been lost through some inaccuracy in the compass! If the compass points too much to the east or to the west, the most careful commander may wreck his vessel. And if the compass of the soul is in a wrong direction you will find it very hard to walk in a right path. Now, in this text the one standard is the image of the Lord Jesus. We are said to behold the glory of the Lord, and to be changed into His image. There cannot be a doubt that this refers to the Lord Jesus Christ, and that by His glory is meant His grace. If there were, it would be settled by these words in John, i. 14: ‘The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us; and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.’ The great manifestation of the glory of God is in the grace and truth of the incarnate Word. If, then, we would be holy, as God is holy, we must be changed into the image of the Lord Jesus Christ. When we are like Him we shall be holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners; but not before. So you will find that, when persons speak about their sinlessness, it may generally be traced to their adopting a low standard of holiness. Sometimes people will set up their own experience as a standard, and really seem to think that we are to receive their accounts of their own experience as if it were another Bible. Sometimes we read of a perfection, not absolute, but ‘up to the measure of to-day’s consciousness.’ Accordingly I have read of one described as an eminent Christian, who ‘said that a few days more would make twenty-one years that his obedience had been kept at the extreme verge of his light.’ I am not sure that I know what the writer means, and I may possibly misunderstand his words; but, if they mean what they seem to mean, I can scarcely imagine anything more delusive. We know very well how the eyes may be blinded, the heart deadened, and the conscience seared by sin; we know that the deeper a man is sunk in sin the less he feels it, and the lower his fall the more profound his want of feeling; and only imagine what must be the result if a deadened, thickened, darkened conscience were to be accepted as the measure of a sinless life. The idea reminds one of these words of St. Paul, 2 Cor. x. 12: ‘They measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.’ Nay: they go further, and point to the tremendous danger pointed out by our Lord Himself: ‘If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness.’ (Matt. vi. 23.) No: we must have a standard rising high above either consciousness, conscience, or our own light; a standard that never varies; a standard that does not go up and down with our changes of feeling or opinion; a standard as unchanging as the perfect character of God Himself! This is the standard which we find in the Lord Jesus Christ,—in God manifest in the flesh: and what is more, thanks be to God, this is the standard which we shall one day reach! For, though there are many things still hidden, there is one thing we most assuredly know, and that is, that ‘when He shall appear we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.’

II. The Progress. As I have just said, when we see the Lord as He is we shall be like Him; and when that comes to pass we shall see the perfection of the promise, He ‘shall save His people from their sins.’ He will so completely save them that whereas He finds them corrupt, ruined, and enemies to God by wicked works, He will finally present them holy and unblameable, without spot and without blemish before the throne. It is impossible to imagine anything more blessed, more wonderful, more divine, than such a change. Now it becomes a question of the deepest interest whether this mighty change is accomplished by one instantaneous act, or gradually. Is it, like justification, a completed thing? or is it a progressive work, commenced at the new birth, but not complete till we see Him as He is? There cannot be a more important practical inquiry. And now you may see the importance of the distinction drawn between the different senses of the word ‘sanctification;’ or, as it might be better expressed, the different parts of that blessed work. If you speak of sanctification as the original act of God in separating us unto Himself, then it is a completed thing, for we are described as ‘having been sanctified in Christ Jesus.’ If, again, you speak of it as a legal cleansing from all past guilt, it is complete, for being washed in the precious blood we are already clean. But if you regard it as the personal holiness of daily life, the purifying the heart through faith by the indwelling power of the Holy Ghost, then I am prepared to maintain from the whole testimony of the whole Word of God from one end to the other, that so long as we are in this world of conflict the sacred work is not complete, but progressive. How people can speak of sanctification in this sense as an immediate work, I am at a loss to understand. Hundreds of passages might be quoted to prove its progressive character, and to show the reason of its present incompleteness: viz., the abiding power of indwelling sin. I have only time to refer to two. In the first place, this verse describes us as changed, or being changed, from glory to glory. We are described as in the process of transformation, or metamorphosis; by His grace passing from glory to glory, or from one degree of grace to another. The work is in progress, thanks be to God! and we have the bright hope of the completed likeness of the Lord. But that bright hope is not yet realized, nor will it be till we see Him as He is. I will take only one other passage, and select it because it corresponds very closely to the text. It is a passage addressed to the believers in Rome,—to persons who are described as being ‘beloved of God called to be saints.’ (Rom. i. 7.) There can be no doubt then that the work of personal holiness was begun in them: yet what does St. Paul say to them? (Rom. xii. 2.) ‘Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed (or metamorphosized) by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.’ Is it not clear then that those persons who were beloved of God, and called to be saints, were still to be reaching forth after higher attainments? There was so much evil in them that they still required to be warned against conformity to the world, and so far were they from their high standard, that they required nothing less than a transformation or metamorphosis (it is the same word as in the text), in order to bring them into a personal experience ‘of the good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.’ Be sure then there is no resting-place in Christian holiness for the saints of God. The Lord may have done great things for us, whereof we are glad. He may have given us such an insight into His grace that we now love that which we once cared nothing for, and hate that which we once loved: He may have led us to say from the bottom of our hearts, ‘I delight to do Thy will, O my God.’ But our motto must still be, ‘Forgetting those things that are behind, and reaching forth unto those things that are before, I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.’ The more we love Christ, the more must we be deeply humbled that we love Him so little; and the more we look at the blessed prospect of a real and perfect sinlessness, the more must we be ready to say, as St. Paul did, ‘Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus.’

III. But some of you will be ready to say that that is just where your difficulty lies. You do really desire to be going forward, and to be making progress, but it seems as if you could not. You are like a person in a nightmare, who wishes to run, but cannot. Let us then consider what is God’s great instrument, whereby He imparts progress to the soul. On this subject this text is quite decisive, for it shows that God’s great instrument is the view of the Lord Jesus Christ through faith. In the passage to which I have already referred in 1 John, iii. 2, we find that the perfect view of the Lord Jesus will lead to perfect likeness, so in these words the partial view leads to progressive likeness. When the view is perfect the likeness will be perfect too; now that the view is imperfect, only as through a glass, the likeness is imperfect likewise. But still it is growing more and more; for ‘we all,’—not merely special Christians, who have attained what they call ‘the higher life,’—‘beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory.’ Now I believe it is impossible to press this too strongly on all those who desire holiness, for there is a perpetual tendency in every one of us to turn the eye inward on ourselves, instead of keeping it fixed on Him. Some are occupied with what they feel, or do not feel, or wish to feel, or wish they did not feel; and some by what they do, or mean to do, or think they ought to do,—till the whole mind becomes bewildered, and the whole soul entangled. Remember that you may be entangled by your religious efforts, as well as by your sins: nothing indeed entangles people more than confused and mistaken religion. So that if you really want to be like Him, you must sweep away all your entanglements like so many cobwebs, and, just as you are, look straight at Him. For example, you say you do not feel sin, and you do not feel anything like the sorrow for it that you know you ought to do. I have no doubt you are perfectly right, and it is very sorrowful, very sinful, and very sad. But how is it to be overcome? I know of only one way, and that is a very simple one, too simple for many of you,—and that is a look: you must behold Christ. Remember the case of the Jews. Nothing yet has melted their hearts: their great national afflictions have utterly failed: but in God’s time there will be a change. We shall see those people mourning,—so mourning that they will be led with broken hearts to the Fountain open for sin and for uncleanness. And what will be God’s instrument for producing such a change? By what means will He effect it? By a look: a simple look! You find it described in Zech. xii. 10: ‘They shall look on Me whom they have pierced, and shall mourn for him.’ That one look will accomplish more than 1800 years of bitter, and most afflictive, discipline. And it is just the same with ourselves. One look at our loving and living Saviour will do more towards softening the heart than hours spent in the scrutiny of feeling, or whole books of self-examination. If you want to grow in grace, in tenderness of conscience, in holy abhorrence of sin, in purity of heart, in lowliness of spirit, and in thankful love for your blessed Saviour,—then look on Him, keep your eyes on Him. Think on His Cross, how He died for you; on His life, how He lived for you; on His advocacy, how He pleads for you; on His perfect character, His love, His holiness, His purity, His power, His grace, His truth: for by such a look, and such a look alone, can you ever hope to be changed into His image.

But remember one expression in the text: viz. those three words, ‘With open face.’ The look that transforms is a look with an open face: there must be nothing between. There must not be a veil over it, as there is over the Jews, as you read in verse 15. Every barrier must be removed. The great barrier of the curse is gone, through the blood of atonement; and we must not now set up fresh barriers of our own creation. We must remember the hymn:—

‘Just as I am: Thy love alone
Has broken every barrier down;’

and just as we are,—humbled, unworthy, cold, and unfeeling, but yet admitted into the very presence of the Lord,—we must look with open face at the Son of God Himself; and I hope we may be able to say, as David did, ‘They looked to Him, and were lightened, and their faces were not ashamed.’

IV. But the look is not enough; for besides all means there must be a power. We cannot will ourselves into the likeness of our Saviour, any more than an animal can will itself into a man: the great transformation must be by the power of a life-creating agent. So, when I turn again to this text, I find that it is not the look alone which effects the change, but that it is God the Holy Ghost making use of the look, and by divine omnipotence transforming the soul into the image of the Lord Jesus. In the last words of the text it is all ascribed to Him, as in the words, ‘Even as by the Spirit of the Lord,’ or, as the margin has it, ‘Even as by the Lord the Spirit.’ I have no time to dwell on this subject as I should like to do; but I cannot conclude without begging the careful attention of all those who are almost tempted to think that there is something in their constitution which blocks the way against their progress. They see others going forward while they stand still; they hear of others filled with peace in believing, while they are still hampered by doubt, so that they begin to think they shall never rise, and are never intended to rise, above their present condition. I quite admit that it may be perfectly true, that there is something peculiar in your case; something peculiar, it may be, in your habits, in your disposition, in your temper, in your temptation. Let us admit it, for most people have their peculiar difficulties. But, admitting it, I pray you to consider whether there is not a Divine power in the Lord the Spirit, which is quite sufficient to overcome that peculiarity. Is any thing too hard for the Lord? Think then on God the Holy Ghost: think of Him as working out the great salvation purchased for us through the precious blood of the Son of God, and then reflect whether it is possible that your difficulties are beyond His power. They are beyond your own: you have learned that. But are they beyond His? If you have failed, is that any reason why He should? Trust Him then, and behold Christ Jesus. Remember you are dealing with One mighty to save, and that, while you are looking to Jesus, He, working within, may heal your soul. Trust Him then to do it. You know He can; trust Him that He will: and never again admit the thought, that, notwithstanding all you have discovered in your soul, there is any thing there too hard for the Son of God,—anything which may not be overcome by the indwelling power of God the Holy Ghost.

INFECTION OF NATURE.

‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin.’—Rom. vii. 25. [64]

There are few passages in the whole word of God that have excited a deeper interest amongst truly Christian people than the latter part of the seventh of Romans. It is so closely connected with the practical experience of Christian life, and at the same time it is so much opposed to the beautiful theories of some Christian people, that it has always excited an earnest spirit of inquiry, and engaged the deepest interests of the students of Scripture. I propose to make it the subject of our study this morning: to endeavour to find out what the Scripture really teaches. And in the outset of our study I should wish to give one caution, which I believe to be of the utmost importance for us all: viz., we must not bring the sacred Scriptures to the test of our theories, but must be prepared, if need be, to give up those theories to the authority of Scripture. If we want to live in God’s truth, we must be subject to God’s Word, and must be content to receive what He teaches as He teaches it. In other words, we must not twist Scripture so as to make it fit our own opinions, but must receive it as from God, and make all our opinions bend before its high authority.

With this caution before us, there are three subjects to be considered. First, of whom is the Apostle speaking: of himself, or some other man? Secondly, of what period in his Christian life is he speaking: does he refer to the past or to the present? And thirdly, what does the passage teach respecting his spiritual condition at the time he wrote the words?

And now, may God the Holy Ghost, who inspired the Word, lead us all reverently to study, and rightly to understand, His teaching!

I. To whom does it refer? I feel persuaded that we shall all admit that, if any person were to read the chapter without having some previous opinion to support, he would believe that the Apostle was speaking of himself. The word ‘I’ occurs no less than twenty-eight times in the passage. Such expressions as ‘I do,’ ‘I consent,’ ‘I allow,’ ‘I delight,’ are found continually; and certainly the natural conclusion would be that when he said, ‘I,’ he meant himself. I know that it is sometimes said that he personated some other person; a legalist, or one in a lower Christian life. But there is not the least evidence of any such personation in the passage, and he says not one word to lead us to suppose that such was his intention. In iii. 5, he does thus personate an objector; and says, ‘But if our unrighteousness commend,’ &c. But then he distinctly states that he is doing so in the words, ‘I speak as a man.’ But there is nothing of the kind here. There is a plain, simple statement in his own name; passing from the ‘I,’ which pervades the chapter, to ‘I, myself,’ in the last verse; and I am utterly at a loss to understand on what principle these plain words, ‘I myself,’ can be supposed to express the personation of some other man.

II. In answer then to our first question, I am brought to the conclusion that when he spoke of ‘I myself,’ he meant himself, and not another: and we may pass to our second question. To what period of his spiritual history did he refer: did he speak of the past, or of the present? Was he describing some period of past anxiety out of which he had been delivered, so as to enter on the joys of the eighth chapter? Or was he speaking of his state of mind at the very time, that he was writing the eighth chapter, and declaring, ‘Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father?’ In answer to this I have not the smallest hesitation in saying that, according to every principle of sound exposition, the seventh chapter refers to exactly the same period as the eighth; that it is a description of his own experience at the time he wrote the words; and that we should have just as much authority for saying that the eighth chapter referred only to the future, as that the seventh referred only to the past. For this I give three reasons:—

(1.) If we wish to understand the Word of God we must receive plain words as we find them in sacred Scripture. We have no right to assume that the present tense stands for the past; that ‘I am,’ means ‘I was;’ that ‘I do,’ means ‘I used to do;’ that ‘I hate,’ means ‘I used to hate;’ and ‘I delight,’ means ‘I used to delight.’ If we once begin thus to handle Scripture there is an end to exposition; and if people who thus twist Scripture would be consistent, they ought to go on, and say that the beginning of this verse, ‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord,’ means, ‘I used to thank Him, but I do not now.’

(2.) Again, the transition from the past to the present is clearly marked in the passage. In the parenthesis which extends from the seventh verse to the end of the chapter, we find the three tenses,—past, present, and future. From verse seven to verse thirteen it is all in the past, and is a description of a certain portion of his past life. ‘I was alive;’ ‘the commandment came;’ ‘sin revived;’ ‘I died;’ ‘I found it to be unto death;’ and ‘sin deceived me, and by it slew me.’ It is a description of the great work of God in breaking down his pharisaism, and bringing him to Christ. I believe it all took place during those solemn three days at Damascus. But from the fourteenth verse to the end, all is changed, and the present tense is employed. ‘I am;’ ‘I do;’ ‘I allow;’ ‘I delight;’ ‘I hate;’ ‘I thank God;’ ‘I serve.’ The only exception is in the twenty-fourth verse, where we find the future: ‘who shall deliver me from the body of this death?’ This distinction of the tenses is alone enough to prove the point, for it would be just as reasonable to maintain that the past means the present, as that the present means the past.

(3.) Once more. The noble thanksgiving of verse twenty-five is supposed to be the point of transition from the sadness of the seventh chapter to the joys of the eighth; the conclusion of his conflict in the discovery of the Lord Jesus. There can be no doubt that this passage does describe the act of faith rejoicing in the Divine Deliverer. It describes the believer grasping the victory, and rising through grace above the conflict within his soul. We quite admit it, and fully accept that explanation of the words. But now, here is the remarkable point: this account of a struggle within the soul is found—where? Not only before the thanksgiving of victory, but also after it; proving thereby that it is deeply felt, even by those who can give thanks for an overcoming Saviour. And more than that. People draw a distinction between what they call the unhappy seventh and the happy eighth; but this verse comes between the thanksgiving of the seventh chapter and the assurance of no condemnation in the eighth. It follows the thanksgiving, and leads on immediately to the grand, and most blessed declaration, with which the eighth chapter opens: ‘There is, therefore, now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.’

On the whole, therefore, I conclude that the Apostle was speaking of himself, and not of another: and that he spoke of himself at the very time that he was assured of no condemnation in the present, and no separation for all eternity: of a perfect safety in his union with the Lord Jesus Christ. We may pass then to our last subject.

III. What does the passage teach us respecting the experience of the Apostle at the time when he wrote the Epistle? Perhaps I ought to limit the question by rather saying, What was his experience with reference to the law? For the whole object of the passage is to bring out the holiness of the law, and to prove from his own case that the ‘commandment was holy, and just, and good.’

(1.) The first thing that is conspicuously clear is that he had discovered its true character. When he was a legalist he had no idea of its exalted standard; but, when God called him, his eyes were opened to behold its perfection. It is a curious fact that those who hope to save themselves by their doings are almost certain to entertain but low and limited notions of the law: they think of it as some low standard within their own reach; so they are always endeavouring to fulfil it, and though always failing, are never really troubled at their failure; but, when God opens their heart, they discover its exalted holiness, and find themselves to be nothing better than dead men before it. This is just what had happened to St. Paul. He lived in early life as an earnest, religious, and well-conducted young man, and he was satisfied with himself. ‘Touching the righteousness which is in the law,’ as he says himself (Phil. iii. 6), he was ‘blameless.’ He went through all the Jewish worship as correctly as possible, and omitted nothing: but he knew nothing of the claims of the law on his whole heart and all his powers; he simply regarded it as a collection of rules,—and he thought he did well. So he says, in verse nine, ‘I was alive without the law once.’ His ignorance of the law made him think himself alive; but God had after a time opened his eyes, and he discovered its exalted holiness. He saw it expounded in the teaching of our Lord, and exhibited in His life; he found it was nothing less than the perfect will of a perfect God; and all his own poor, feeble, miserable doings shrank away as dead things before the holiness of God; and thus he adds, ‘The commandment came, and I died.’

Now this change had taken place when he wrote the Epistle, so that the law was no longer to him a mere skeleton of form, but had appeared before him as the great expression of the mind of God. And now how did he regard it? This leads to a second point.

(2.) He approved it, and delighted in it. He approved it, for he said, ‘I consent unto the law, that it is good.’ Nor did he regard it as a yoke of bondage about his soul. It was not a rigid code by which he was forced against his will. How any person can suppose that this passage is the language of an unregenerate, or unconverted man, I cannot imagine. Did you ever know an unconverted man to delight in the perfect holiness of God? Such holiness condemns, restrains, and frightens him. But St. Paul said, ‘I delight in the law of God after the inner man.’ The fact was he had experienced the great promise of the New Covenant: ‘I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it on their hearts.’ God, the Holy Ghost, had written the law on his heart, and now he loved it. To please God was his greatest joy, and to do His will was the chief desire of his soul. He could say, as David did, ‘Oh, how I love Thy love: it is my meditation all the day!’ He was not content with the measure of his own consciousness, or the standard of his fellow-men, or a vain idea of doing his best, or doing no harm to any one. He did not split hairs about the distinction between being blameless and being faultless. He had seen the Lord in His beauty, and adored Him in His holiness, so now it was the whole mind and will of God that filled his soul, and the great desire of his heart was expressed in such words as those of the Psalmist, ‘Teach me to do Thy will; for Thou art my God: Thy Spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness.’ And does not this teach us a lesson of inexpressible importance respecting ourselves? In Christ Jesus we are not driven by a slave master, and compelled by the lash into obedience. We ‘love the law,’ because we ‘love the Lord.’ We find His will, and His word, to be dearer unto us than thousands of gold and silver; and we experience the blessedness described by our blessed Saviour when He said, ‘Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.’

(3.) But all this while he was painfully conscious that he was infinitely below its standard. The very fact of hungering and thirsting after righteousness implies in itself that your hunger is not yet supplied: so in this passage St. Paul teaches us that he was still very far from what he most earnestly desired to be. He felt what I may term the bitter provocation of shortcoming: ‘The good that I would I do not, but the evil that I would not that I do.’ There was the unceasing consciousness of falling utterly short of the high standard set before him in the law. He does not say this to justify sin, for he tells us how he hated it; but he teaches us, as plainly as words can teach anything, that at the very time when God had by His great grace so changed his heart that he had discovered the law and was delighting in it, there was still in him what the ninth Article describes, when it says, ‘The infection of nature doth remain yet in them that are regenerate.’ The old, fallen, sinful human nature was not extinct in him, and this ruin of his fallen nature was acting as a clog and drawback on his holy longings after the perfect holiness of God. Thus in his one self there was a contest between grace and nature, between the new man and the old. Of the one he says, ‘I delight in the law of God after the inward man;’ and of the other, ‘I know that in me (i.e., in my flesh) dwelleth no good thing.’ By the power of the Holy Ghost he could say, ‘To will is present with me;’ but through the power of the old nature he was obliged to add, ‘How to perform that which is good I find not.’ It was this bitter pain of thus failing to reach the standard of his heart’s desire, that drew from him the cry, ‘Oh, wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?’ Some people think that such language could not have come from an enlightened believer, led by the Spirit, and walking in the sunlight of the eighth chapter. They seem to forget the twenty-third verse of that very chapter, in which he says, ‘Ourselves also, which have the first-fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.’ (viii. 23.) For my own part, I believe it was the leading of the Spirit that called it forth, inasmuch as that leading led him to aim at the true standard of the holiness of God. I agree with the wise commentary of old Scott:—

‘This energetic language, which many imagine to describe an unestablished believer’s experience, or even that of an unconverted person, seems to have resulted from the extraordinary degree of St. Paul’s sanctification, and the depth of his self-abasement, and hatred of sin; and the reason of our not readily understanding him seems to be that we are so far beneath him in holiness, humility, acquaintance with the spirituality of God’s law, and the evil of our own hearts, and in our degree of abhorrence of moral evil.’

I have not then the smallest hesitation in taking the passage as I find it, and regarding it as descriptive of the Apostle’s own sense of shortcoming before the standard of the law, at the very time of his most peaceful, Christian experience. I wish I had time to follow out the subject, and show how in the midst of his conflict a hallowed peace was flowing into his soul: but that I must leave to another day. But you must not wait till next Sunday, seeking peace, and finding none; you must remember at once that, though you fail, the Lord Jesus Christ never does. You must remember at once that it is with especial reference to this very struggle that we are taught that ‘the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.’ You must remember at once that in the midst of all your difficulties you have a living Advocate at the right hand of God; and therefore at once, with God’s holiness as your standard, God’s atonement as your righteousness, and God’s Spirit as your guide, notwithstanding all shortcomings, you may say as St. Paul did in the midst of his struggle, ‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

GRACE.

‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin.’—Rom. vii. 25.

‘There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Jesus Christ, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.’—Rom. viii. 1.

I hope that your study of this passage during the week has confirmed the conclusions at which we arrived last Sunday,—that St. Paul was speaking of himself, not of another; and that he was describing his experience at the very time he wrote the Epistle. I trust also you have seen from his words that the Lord had opened his eyes to discover the holiness of the law, and changed his heart, so that with his whole soul he loved it. I hope also that it has been clear to you that this exclamation, ‘Oh, wretched man that I am!’ was the expression of his profound humiliation, under the painful sense of his own shortcoming when measured by the high standard of the holiness of God.

Now, I believe that if, instead of adopting some artificial standard of our own, we aim at the perfection of God’s holiness, as taught in the Word of God and exhibited in the life of the Son of God, we are sure thus painfully to feel the contrast between what we are and what we ought to be. Of course if we measure ourselves by ourselves we may be easily satisfied; but then we know we are not wise, and our satisfaction may be nothing more than delusion. But if we bring ourselves to the test of perfect, spotless, eternal holiness, and honestly look into the workings of our own fallen heart, I cannot imagine why we should shrink from such words as those in our confession, ‘We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done.’

Are we to understand then that there is nothing but conflict and disappointment before the Christian man, and that the only effect of the opening of the heart by the Holy Ghost, is to lead us to discover, and feel the pain of, sin? If so, I could almost say, ‘Let the eye remain closed,’ for I verily believe there is no state of mind so painful as when there is the sight of sin without the sight of Christ Jesus. When you know neither sin nor a Saviour, you can be content in the world; when you know sin alone without a Saviour, you have all the anxiety of religion without the joy: but it is when you know both, that you may be sorrowful yet always rejoicing; deeply conscious of your own defects, and yet resting peacefully in the right hand of the blessed Lord who has redeemed you by His blood.

This morning, therefore, if God permit, we will endeavour to study what it is in the Saviour that can give us a peaceful, thankful joy, at the very time that we feel most profoundly humbled before the holiness of God. I have not nearly time to discuss the whole subject as I should like to do, and, therefore, must confine your attention to these two verses; standing as they do in immediate connexion with the description of the struggle, they will supply us with exactly the information we require, and teach us how in the midst of the sharpest conflict with sin the believer may enjoy the most perfect peace in Christ Jesus.There appear to be three lessons plainly taught us.

I. We have the triumphant hope of final victory. Along with the deepest sense of unsatisfied longings after holiness there is the peaceful spirit of thanksgiving in the assurance of a coming triumph. The passage does not refer to a deliverance that had already taken place, but to one still future; and the thanksgiving was not for any thing past, but for a great work still remaining to be accomplished. So the deliverance from the text is not a deliverance from the curse, for that had taken place already; nor a deliverance from the sentence of the law, for from that the Apostle was already free; but a deliverance from the power of indwelling sin, which kept him back from the holiness at which he aimed. He said, therefore, ‘Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?’ He had found by experience that he could not deliver himself; but in the midst of his own failure he could look up to the great Deliverer, and with profound thanksgiving bless God for the undoubting assurance that in God’s own time he would be completely transformed into the very likeness of his Lord. His language is explained by his own words, in Phil. iii. 20, 21: ‘From whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body, according to the working whereby He is able to subdue all things to Himself.’ ‘The body of this death,’ in the text, is the same as the ‘vile body,’ or ‘body of humiliation,’ in the Philippians; and the deliverance of the text is the transformation of that body into the likeness of the Lord Christ Jesus, at the appearing of our Blessed Saviour. This is exactly the same as what the Apostle John expected when he said (1 John, iii. 2), ‘Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is.’ So that, on the whole, we are taught that the time is most undoubtedly coming when those who are thirsting after the holiness of God will be perfectly satisfied; when the vile body shall be changed; and when not a spot, or blemish, will remain in any one of the saints of God.

Ye then who are humbled and cast down because of your infinite shortcomings, ye must not be disheartened, but must trust your Saviour. He came to save His people from their sins, and in His own time He will do it. If you be in Him, He has already set you free from the curse; He has already given you the earnest desire to do His will; He has already so far secured the victory that, ‘Sin shall not have the dominion over you.’ And the time is soon coming when He will Himself appear in His glory, and then all conflicts will be over, and you will be like Him, for you shall see Him as He is. Like St. Paul, therefore, you may begin at once to give Him thanks. You remember the case of Jehoshaphat, and how he put the singers in front of his little army, to praise God for the promised victory, even when the enemy stood there in the fulness of his strength. So you too may rise at once in the spirit of thanksgiving: for in Christ Jesus your victory is far more certain than that of Jehoshaphat. You may press on, therefore, with the utmost vigour, with a victory full in view; and, though as yet you fall infinitely short of His most perfect character, you need not wait till you have overcome your difficulties, but may even now say, as St. Paul did, ‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

II. But you could not do this if all the while the power of sin were shutting you out from God. And this leads us to a second point of the utmost possible importance: viz., that now, in the midst of the struggle, and during the time of imperfection, in Christ Jesus we are free from all condemnation. If, as we pursue our course, we were to be condemned for all the sin of which we are guilty in either omission or commission, in either thought, word, or act, there could be no peace or hope in our struggle. I am not surprised that poor people who do not know the Gospel go to priests for absolution, or resort to any other man-made expedient in order to endeavour to escape from the misery of the perpetual exclusion from God of which they must be conscious. But in Christ Jesus you need nothing of the kind, for ‘there is now no condemnation for them that are in Christ Jesus.’ Observe the force of the ‘now’ in contrast with the ‘shall’ of the twenty-fourth verse of the seventh chapter. The complete deliverance is future: so he said, ‘Who shall deliver me?’ But the perfect freedom from all condemnation is present: and therefore he says, ‘There is now no condemnation.’ The ‘therefore now’ of that verse depends on the sixth verse of the seventh chapter, the intermediate passage being a parenthesis, so that the connexion is as follows: ‘Now we are delivered from the law, . . . there is therefore now no condemnation.’ The battle is not over, and you have still to fight a hard fight with sin; but now that sin cannot cut you off from God, for you are no longer under the law: you are in Christ Jesus, and He has satisfied the law in your behalf. Your sin undoubtedly deserves condemnation, and you have not a word to say in its defence: but He has already borne that condemnation, so that in Him you are free; and nothing can separate you from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus the Lord. Now, think for one moment of the unspeakable blessedness of this most precious truth. You may review all that has occurred through the day,—your prayers, your praises, your wandering thoughts, your conversation, your motives, and your heart’s desires,—and oh, how far they will all fall short of the holiness of God! If you are not in Christ Jesus, the thought of them must fill you with anxiety, doubt, and a sense of distance from God; but if you are enabled by His grace to take home to your heart the blessed truth, that now, even now, before you have gained the victory, there is no condemnation,—then that sin does not separate you from Him. It humbles you, it is true, and deeply grieves you; but it cannot cut you off from God: you are sheltered in the covenant of Grace. ‘The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth you from all sin,’ and you may kneel before Him in the peaceful enjoyment of a true and uninterrupted fellowship with God. In the spirit of adoption you may cry Abba, Father; and with the happy trust of a child in its father’s arms, you may say, ‘I will lay me down in peace, and sleep; for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.’

III. But that is not all; for besides this we have the unspeakable privilege of the unceasing leading of God the Holy Ghost. If we were left to ourselves to fight out our battle with sin, to rely on our own judgment, and to overcome by our own powers, we should be overcome before we had struck a single blow. But not only is there a final victory promised to us in the future, and a complete freedom from all condemnation in the present, but there is also another most sacred gift at once enjoyed by all who are in Christ Jesus: viz., the present indwelling of God the Holy Ghost within the soul. This belongs not to the future, but to the present: it is not connected with the ‘shall’ of verse twenty-four, but with the ‘now’ of verse one. ‘There is now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk,’ or who are walking, ‘not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.’ So, in verse fourteen, we read of a present leading as the privilege of a present sonship: ‘As many as are led,’ or being led, ‘by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.’ It is impossible to attempt to unfold all the blessings which follow from this most sacred privilege: it conveys to us all that is connected both with companionship and power. Companionship, because He is not one afar off to be reached only occasionally, and that after special efforts: but dwelling within the soul as a Leader, a Comforter, a Witness, an Advocate, a Friend. And a power: for He is not like a mighty arm afar off, omnipotent if we could but reach it; but a very present help: one that knows our weakness better than we do, and perceives our danger before we know it ourselves. One that, dwelling within, can so act on the conscience, and so move the secret springs of the will, that He does not merely make use of us as machines, but constrains us to hate sin and to love holiness; while He Himself imparts a power to shake off our fetters, and as free men to walk with God.

Surely, then, we may understand the apparent contradiction in the Apostle’s words, and see why it was that he was thanking God, although he called himself a wretched man. He called himself a wretched man, because there was that in his ruined nature which kept him back from the exalted holiness at which he aimed: but he could still thank God, for he was sure that before long he would be transformed into the likeness of Christ Himself; and, more than that, he knew that even now, in the days of his conflict, there was a freedom from all condemnation for his failures, and the sacred assurance of the Holy Ghost abiding in his soul to lead him on to victory. Therefore it was that he could give thanks. And, dear brethren, if you are in Christ Jesus, may not you do the same? Is there not the same hope for you? Are not you equally free from condemnation? Is not the indwelling Spirit equally effectual for you? How is it then that your whole souls are not filled with bright hope, and profound thanksgiving? How is it that we do not all unite more heartily and unreservedly in the spirit of the text, ‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord?’

HOLINESS THROUGH FAITH.

‘And put no difference between us and them, purifying their hearts by faith.’—Acts, xv. 9.

I fear that I may have almost wearied some of you by dwelling so long as I have on the subject of sanctification, or Christian holiness; but it is one of such overwhelming practical importance, and so intimately connected with the glory of God, that I am persuaded we ought none to grudge any time spent on the study of it. I must ask your attention, therefore, to a phrase which has lately become familiar to some of you, viz. ‘holiness through faith.’ I like the expression thoroughly, and believe it to be full of truth; for there can be no true holiness except by faith, and no real faith that does not lead to holiness. If we are holy at all we may be perfectly certain that the holiness will be through faith; and if we are real believers we may be equally sure that we shall be holy; therefore it is that in this passage, when the Apostle is speaking of the sacred work of divine purity wrought in the soul by the Holy Ghost, he described Him as ‘purifying the heart by faith.’ This then shall be our subject for this morning, and I hope we may learn two great truths: first, that holiness is not known by faith; and next, that faith is the power by which it pleases God to produce holiness in the soul.

I. Holiness is not known by faith. This seems so obvious that it may be scarcely thought to require consideration, but from what I have read lately, I am inclined to think it does. Let us then bear well in mind that faith is entirely occupied with things future or unseen. ‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’ The moment that we can see anything, that thing ceases to be an object of faith. There is an old saying, that ‘seeing is believing;’ but that is the creed of the materialist, who says he can only believe what he sees; but it will not do for the Christian, or even for the philosopher, for sight supersedes faith, and the very essence of faith is to believe when we cannot see. So our Lord said to Thomas, ‘Blessed are they which have not seen, and yet have believed.’ You believe that the Lord Jesus is now at the right hand of the Father, and will shortly come again; but when you stand before Him and behold Him on His throne, it will no longer be a matter of faith, but of sight. So our justification through imputed righteousness is a matter of faith: it is a divine act of the hidden mind of God, and perfectly invisible to the eye of man. You cannot see your name in the book of life; you cannot see the counsel of God blotting out your sin because of the finished sacrifice, or accounting you righteous in Christ Jesus even at the very time that you know yourself to be a ruined sinner. You cannot see it, for the whole transaction is out of sight: it takes place in heaven, not on earth; in the council-chamber of God, and not within the reach of human vision. This, therefore, is an object of faith, and can only be known by faith. You cannot hope to see your justification, or the imputation of righteousness to your soul; all that you can do is to trust God for it. He has declared in His Word that He has ‘made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.’ So that we may trust in His assurance, and believe that, the Lord Jesus having been made sin for us, we are accounted righteous in Him, even with the righteousness of God. Yes: and thanks be to God! we may believe it at once, for the Covenant of God is as perfect now as it can be if we wait a hundred years. There is nothing, therefore, to prevent a present and immediate faith in the finished Work, and perfect Word, of a Blessed Saviour. Believe Him, and there is peace; and believe Him now.

But it is not so with sanctification, or holiness. The seat of holiness, or sanctification, is in our own souls. It is not like the name written in the Book of Life which no man can see; for it is the law written by the Holy Ghost upon the fleshy tables of the heart, and therefore within view of conscience. God has placed a conscience within every one of us: an eye that looks inward, and can see all that is passing within the soul. Are there bad acts, bad words, or bad thoughts? Conscience may see them all. Is there a deep desire to walk with God, and do His Will? Conscience discovers it. So says the Apostle John (1 John, iii. 20, 21): ‘If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence towards God.’ Conscience therefore must decide as to the existence of sanctification, or personal holiness. Justification, or imputed righteousness, is known by faith, not sight: sanctification, or inwrought righteousness, is known by sight, not faith. We should be acting in unbelief if we were to doubt the perfection of imputed righteousness because we cannot see it, for faith is concerned with the unseen; but we should be putting faith into altogether a false position if we were to presume to believe in the perfection of our holiness so long as conscience convinces us that sin is still abiding in the heart. If we are conscious of indwelling sin, and find it ready to break out like a fire at any moment, it is not the office of faith to reckon it dead. No, dear brethren: true holiness is a practical change of heart wrought in us by the Holy Ghost, and perceptible; it is a new character wrought in us by a new power, and springing from new principles. It is not an invisible change, but one known by its results; it is not a matter of faith, but of experience; and so St. John says in his Epistle (1 John, iii. 24): ‘Hereby we know that He abideth in us, by the Spirit which He hath given us.’

II. But, though holiness is not known by faith, faith is the power by which it pleases God to produce it, and therefore it is well called ‘Holiness through faith.’ Some people seem to speak of this subject as if they had made a great religious discovery. I often wonder what books they had read, or what sermons they had heard, before they discovered it. They could not have been those of the great divines of the Church of England,—such as Hooker, Bishop Reynolds, or Archbishop Leighton; nor of the great Evangelical Fathers in the Church of England,—such as Venn, Cecil, and Simeon; for holiness through faith is the keynote of all their writings. Over and over again have sermons been preached and books written on such great, full, plain texts as this: ‘Put no difference between us and them, purifying their hearts by faith.’

But, leaving such discussions, let us consider the office of faith in producing holiness, and examine in what way it pleases God to purify the heart through faith.

We shall find that He does it in two ways.

(1.) By the introduction of new motives and principles. He does not deal with us as though we were without mind, but by the use of the mind which He Himself has given. The refiner refines the silver, but the silver has no voice in the transaction: it is simply acted upon as lifeless matter. But it is not so with the soul: the soul can think, can feel, can sorrow, can rejoice, can love; and when God refines it He calls into activity all its faculties. In purifying the heart He makes use of its powers, and so consecrates them to His most sacred service. For example, there is no greater power in the whole mind of man than love. People will make any sacrifices under the influence of a powerful affection; God therefore takes that faculty of love, and so consecrates it to His own sacred service, that the people of God may say, ‘The love of Christ constraineth us.’ And now you see in a moment the office of faith. How is that love to grow up within the soul if there be no faith preceding it? If you have no trust in His reconciling grace,—if it is all a matter of uncertainty to you whether He is loving you as a child, or about to cast you as a condemned criminal into hell,—I cannot see what there is to call forth any love within your heart. St. John says, ‘We love Him because He first loved us;’ so that if there is no trust in His first love the motive is gone, and there is no power by which love in us can be produced. But when, on the other hand, we can believe His boundless grace,—believe that He gave Himself to be sin for us with as little doubt as if we actually saw Him on the cross,—believe that we are already forgiven through His blood, and, though so unworthy, made the righteousness of God in Him,—believe, in short, that He is fulfilling to us that most precious promise in Hosea, ‘I will love them freely, for mine anger is turned away from him,’ and all because the Son of God was content in our place to die,—then there is something to call forth love in the hardest heart that ever beat; something that must make sin in all its forms inexpressibly hateful; something to produce those sacred results of constraining love described by St. Paul, when he said, ‘That they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him that died for them, and rose again.’

If therefore you earnestly desire holiness, remember it must be holiness through faith. Do not fall into the common error of supposing it must be faith through holiness; but keep close to what is taught you in the text: viz., that God purifies the heart through faith. First, get a fast hold on His love to you. Realise that, and you may safely leave your love to Him to follow. But, till you know that, you will never be really holy, for you can never be under the power of the great governing principle of love.

(2.) But this is not all, for true holiness is a Divine gift as much as pardon. It is not an uncommon thing to find a kind of vague idea that we are to find the holiness, and God the pardon; the certain result of which is that there is no progress in the one, and no joy in the other. But that is not the teaching of the Gospel. According to the Sacred Scripture all the Three Persons of the one Godhead are engaged in our sanctification. In this passage, e.g., it is ascribed to God the Father, as its author, and God the Holy Ghost as the agent; in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, our Lord and Saviour is said to be ‘made unto us sanctification:’ so that He bears the very title of Jesus, because it is His office to ‘save His people from their sins.’ If, therefore, we are made holy, it is by the power of the Holy Ghost carrying out the purpose of the Father, and dwelling within the soul through the mediation of the Son; it is the sacred act of Divine power carrying into effect the Divine Covenant through the mediatorial work of the Lord Jesus Christ. And here you see in a moment the office of faith. Faith is the act of the soul casting itself on the Covenant, and on the Lord Jesus Christ revealed in Scripture as the Mediator of the Covenant. If you fight your own battle for holiness you may struggle hard, and struggle long, but you are sure to fail. You may try any expedient you please,—rules of life, books of self-examination, anything; but it won’t do. The old sin of your fallen heart will keep cropping up just as strong as ever; and you will find yourself a year hence no nearer to the mark than you are now, for the holiness at which you are aiming is not holiness through faith. If you thirst for holiness, you must throw yourself into the arms of the Son of God, that He, by the mighty power of the Holy Ghost, may do that which you cannot do,—make you holy; or, according to the text, purify your heart by faith. There is a great danger of our being partial in our trust: of trusting Him for pardon, but not for holiness. But He teaches us to trust Him equally for both. The promise, ‘I will put my law into their inward parts, and write it in their hearts,’ is just as much a promise of the Covenant as that other promise, ‘I will forgive their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.’ You may therefore trust Him to write His law on your heart just as much as you may trust Him for the forgiveness of your sin.

It does not follow from this that the two gifts will be completed at the same time, or in the same way: the writing of the law on the heart is through a gradual process of Divine education; the blotting out of sin, an immediate act complete at once in the mind of God: but both are acts of the great Deliverer, and for both equally it is the joy of our hearts to trust Him. Trust Him, therefore, to work out a holiness in your soul just as you trust Him to have given you the forgiveness of your sin. If you are trusting Him for imputed righteousness,—that is, trusting Him for having wrought out such a work in your behalf that you are already ‘made the righteousness of God in Him,’—trust Him also for personal holiness; that by the power of the Holy Ghost your character may be conformed to your position. There are many powers by which you may gain many victories, but there is only one by which you can overcome the world: viz., that described by St. John when he said, ‘This is the victory that over-cometh the world, even our faith.’ Be sure, then, that that power is sufficient; so that, trusting Christ, you may rest assured of victory. You are not condemned to toil on in a condition of disheartening hopelessness; but you may enter on each day of your life in the happy and peaceful assurance, not that you are perfect, but that you have perpetually at hand a loving Lord fully able by His own omnipotence to overcome in you your besetting sin. So you may go up from the wilderness leaning on the Beloved, and by God’s grace may walk with Him to victory. Past failures must teach you your own most terrible corruption; but God’s truth may assure you of His sufficiency: so that at the very moment of your own most utter helplessness, when you are ready to cry, ‘Oh, wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?’ you may reply to your own question in the triumphant language of the Apostle, ‘I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

CONSECRATION.

‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.’—Rom. xii. 1.

A great deal has been lately said on the subject of consecration; and we may all rejoice in having our attention directed to it, as we all require a much higher standard than we have ever yet known of self-abandoning dedication to the Lord. We all need to know more fully and more experimentally the real meaning of such words as these: ‘Whether we live, we live unto the Lord, or whether we die, we die unto the Lord; whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s.’ It is most important then that we understand what we mean by consecration. It is clearly quite distinct from that Divine act of separation in which God, by the power of the Holy Ghost, separates His own elect, and incorporates them into Christ. It is also quite distinct from the submission of the soul when it ceases to go about to establish its own righteousness, and submits itself unto the righteousness of God, though in the inaccurate phraseology of some modern writings it sometimes appears to be confounded with it. To consecrate any thing is to set it apart as a holy gift unto the Lord; and, therefore, when we speak of consecration, or self-consecration, we mean that which St. Paul described of the Churches of Macedonia, when he said, ‘They first gave their own selves to the Lord.’ It is the voluntary act of the loving and believing heart yielding itself up to a blessed Saviour, to be henceforth holy unto God. It is in this sense that I am about to speak of it now,—not considering the word so much as the thing,—and hoping that, by God’s great grace, all amongst us who know the Lord may be enabled to yield ourselves, as we have never yet done, to His service.

There are few passages of sacred Scripture which will give us a better summary of the subject than this verse. It contains four points, to which I would draw your particular attention.I. This consecration is a sacrifice. I need not say that it is not a sacrifice for the blotting out of sin: it cost more to redeem our souls, so we must let that alone for ever. It is the sacrifice of thanksgiving, corresponding to the meat-offering in the law of types,—the sacrifice of the thankful heart presenting its thank-offering to God. Regarding it then as prefigured by the meat-offering, we may learn two lessons respecting it.

(1.) It implies complete surrender. Under the ancient law every sacrifice was wholly given up to God. Whatever was brought to the altar was given up without reserve. No part of it was taken back to the home of the offerer. People might give what they pleased, but when it was given it was no longer their own, but God’s. And so it is with us. If we have given ourselves to the Lord, we are no longer our own: ‘Whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.’ There is, however, this difference between the Jewish sacrifice and ours. In the case of the ancient sacrifices, when the sacrifice was a living animal, it was always put to death, and part of it burned as a sweet savour unto God: but it is not so with us. According to this text, it is a living sacrifice that we are called to offer; it is the continued life that we are to surrender. We are not now called to die for Him, as martyrs and many of our missionaries have done, but to live for Him in that state of life in which it has pleased God to call us. The sweet savour that is to rise from our sacrifice is to be the sweet savour of Christian holiness, the holy fragrance of Christian character.

(2.) This sacrifice is well pleasing to God. The meat-offering was described as ‘an offering made by fire of a sweet savour unto the Lord:’ so this sacrifice is said in the text to be ‘acceptable unto God.’ It does not say that it can fulfil the law, or be perfect before God; for there is a vast difference between that which can fulfil the law and that which can please Him. Nothing imperfect can fulfil the law, but the utterly imperfect service of a loving heart may be well-pleasing in His sight. Thus it is that He declares our sacrifice to be acceptable to Himself; and while we seek to yield all we have to Him, and for His sake ‘to do good and to communicate,’ we may have the delight and encouragement of knowing that ‘with such sacrifices God is well pleased.’ (Heb. xiii. 16.)II. It is a sacrifice of the whole man. In the first verse the body only is mentioned: ‘Present your bodies a living sacrifice;’ which evidently has reference to the Jewish type, and teaches that we are not to offer the body of a lamb, or a goat, or a heifer, but our own. But the next verse teaches us that the appeal is not limited to the offering of the body, for there we read that we are to be ‘transformed by the renewing of our mind, that we may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.’ It is clear, therefore, that the whole man is to be included in the gift. Now I sometimes meet with subtle distinctions between the soul and the spirit, and the emotions and the will, and I am quite ready to admit that they may be all correct and very interesting: but I do not care to stop to distinguish between the different parts or faculties, for God’s call lays claim to them all. Whatever they are, and whereinsoever they differ, the desire of our heart should be that they should all as one whole be given up to Him. In whatever position He has placed us,—whether that of parents, children, masters, servants, men of business, men of wealth, tradesmen, labourers, or clergymen,—that position is to be occupied for Him; and whatever faculties He has given us,—whether a powerful intellect, a good memory, a warm heart, a tender conscience, a vigorous body, a good constitution, or an ample fortune,—all, all belong to Him who has redeemed us by His own most precious blood. When we give up ourselves we give up everything,—our wills, and emotions, and powers, and energies, our hearts, and heads, and hands,—to be yielded up to Him, and employed by Him and for Him, as He sees best for His own glory.

III. This consecration is the result of mercy. The latter words of the text show that it is ‘a reasonable service;’ or, in other words, that it is not the result of mere feeling, impulse, or emotion, but the deliberate and well-considered decision of a thoughtful mind. The passage corresponds to those words in 2 Cor. v. 14: ‘The love of Christ constraineth us because we thus judge;’ where you see the union between the heart and the head. The constraining love is the result of the judgment, the blessed fruit of the deep convictions of the understanding: so that those who feel it may give a reason, not only for the hope that is in them, but also for the love that fills their heart. There are certain great facts on which the judgment rests, and the believing assurance of these facts is the means employed by the Holy Spirit to call forth the devotedness of love.

Now what are these facts? What is it that possesses this love-producing power? In the passage from the Corinthians there is one great fact mentioned: viz., the propitiatory death of the Lord Jesus Christ. ‘If one died for all, then were all dead,’ ‘or died.’ They died in Him, inasmuch as they were represented by Him; and it is that great fact which is said to produce the constraining love. In this passage no one fact is mentioned, but the appeal is made to the whole multitude of His mercies: ‘I beseech you, therefore, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice.’ Throughout the Epistle St. Paul had been showing that we are all saved by mercy. In the eleventh chapter he had enlarged on the mercy by which we Gentiles are now saved in Christ Jesus and the mercy about to be manifested towards the Jews, till he arrives at the conclusion that ‘God hath concluded all in unbelief, that He might have mercy upon all.’ Then he bursts forth in the exclamation, ‘Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!’ and follows it up by the appeal of the text: ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God.’ If such mercy has been shown you, if, notwithstanding all your unbelief, by boundless and unmerited mercy you have been saved and made one even with Christ Himself, is it now too much to ask of you that, without delay and without reserve, you yield your whole lives to His service?

I believe it is impossible for us to be too careful in observing this connexion between consecration and mercy, for in the very vague theology of the present day there is a great deal which certainly has the appearance of teaching that the blessed peace of a union with Christ is to be the result of entire consecration. But we are here taught, not that we are to reach mercy as the result of the completeness of our consecration, but that, having realized mercy, we should yield ourselves in consecration to God. That union with the Lord Jesus must be given through the personal appropriation of the mercy of God in Him; and we should regard with the utmost jealousy any teaching which, either intentionally or unintentionally, turns the thoughts inwards to analyze the extent of consecration, with a view to obtaining the blessing of that union, instead of rather diverting all thoughts to the fulness of mercy in Christ Jesus, and so calling forth out of His fulness the abounding love of a consecrated heart.

This great truth is well brought out in our Communion Service. You remember those words of self-consecration in which we have so often united, words founded on this very text: ‘Here we offer and present unto Thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice unto Thee.’ Now in the first Prayer-book of Edward VI. that prayer stood before the reception of the Lord’s Supper, as if we were first to complete an act of self-consecration, and then upon the strength of it feed on Christ: so our Reformers changed its position, and put the prayer after the reception instead of before it, in order to show that when we want to feed on Christ Jesus, to dwell in Him and He in us, we must come to His footstool as poor sinners, forgiven and accepted through His most precious blood; and that when we have been thus permitted to ‘sit under His shadow with great delight, and to find His fruit sweet to our taste,’ the next thing for us all to do is to kneel down with a full and thankful heart, and yield ourselves, body, soul, and spirit, to His service.

IV. This consecration should be continually renewed and deepened. In our Communion Service we renew our self-dedication every time that we receive the Lord’s Supper, for every time we say the same words: ‘Here we offer and present ourselves . . . to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice unto Thee.’ In doing this I firmly believe we are right; and that we are so seems clearly proved by the text. The Romans, to whom these words were addressed, were ‘beloved of God, called to be saints’ (i. 7); they had ‘become servants of God’ and had ‘their fruit unto holiness.’ (vi. 22.) There can be no doubt, therefore, as to their past surrender to His service; but, notwithstanding that, they were exhorted afresh to ‘present their bodies a living sacrifice,’ and afresh to ‘yield themselves unto God.’ (vi. 13.) So we are not to look on our consecration as a single act, completed at a certain moment, and afterwards to be regarded as a finished thing; but rather as a habit and attitude of mind, deepening with our depth, strengthening with our strength, and growing with our growth. As we grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, we shall grow also in the deep sense of mercy. His love passeth knowledge, and it will take eternity to learn its fulness. And His mercy corresponds with His love: it is ‘from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear Him;’ it is ‘high as the heaven is above the earth;’ and as no astronomer can measure the height of the fixed stars, and as no finite mind can take in the idea of an infinite eternity, so none of us, no, not even the most advanced believer, can fathom the depths or scan the heights of the free, unfettered, everlasting mercy of our God. But as we grow in the knowledge of Him and of ourselves, we shall learn more and more of it. The more we know of the covenant of God,—the more we see of the Lord Jesus, in His person, His character, and His work,—the more we know of our own hearts, and discover the exceeding sinfulness of our ruined nature, and the more we see of the perfect adaptation to our utmost wants of the Divine salvation wrought out for us in Christ Jesus,—so much the more shall we know of mercy. Every day in the believer’s life brings with it a fresh lesson in mercy, and every prayer that we pray to a reconciled Father should bring home to us with fresh power the deep debt we owe to mercy.

And now you see in a moment how it is that there should be a continued and constantly repeated renewal of self-consecration. Every fresh discovery of mercy should lead at once to fresh surrender. If you are looking on mercy as some distant thing, which you have often heard of and wish to reach, but cannot, I see not, for my part, how it should have any great power over your life; for, though it looks very beautiful, you cannot say that it has brought any benefit to you. If you have never felt your own deep need of it, and never learned your utter ruin, and have therefore never realised your condemnation before God, I see not how the tidings of mercy should have any great power upon you, for no man really cares for the remedy until he has been taught by God’s Spirit to feel his need. But if you have discovered yourself to be utterly and hopelessly lost, condemned alike by your own conscience and by the law of God; and if in the midst of your ruin you have, by God’s rich love in Christ Jesus, ‘obtained mercy;’ if you can look on His mercy in having redeemed you by His blood, in having called you by His Spirit, in having saved you by His grace, in having given you a blessed hope of His everlasting kingdom,—then indeed I cannot doubt that God has long since called you to a real consecration to His service. But if this be so, and if God has since been bringing you to a deeper sense of sin, and at the same time opening your heart to understand more of His mercy; if He is step by step making manifest to you ‘the depth, and length, and breadth, and height,’ and causing you to ‘know the love of Christ that passeth knowledge:’ then I can see very clearly that all past consecration must appear to your own heart as nothing, and that, ‘forgetting those things that are behind, and reaching forth unto those things that are before,’ you will be ready again to kneel down at His feet, and with fresh love and fresh thanksgiving, yield yourselves afresh to Him, to be His, and His for ever. You may have long since given yourself to the Lord; but if you are this day really permitted ‘to feed on Him—in your heart—by faith—with thanksgiving, you will be prepared to kneel down afterwards and say, ‘Here we offer and present unto Thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice unto Thee.’

‘I am Thine, save me; for I have sought Thy precepts.’—Psalm cxix. 94.