Luke xxiii. 43.

And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise.

Have you ever stood by the bedside of a dying believer? ever watched the decaying strength of some dear object of your fondest love? Then you know the deep emotions of that solemn moment, when, in the stillness of the chamber of death, the heavy breathing ceases, and the happy spirit wings its flight to God. What conflicting feelings then struggle for mastery in the heart! Faith, joy, doubt, and sorrow, seem in turn to take possession of the soul: nay, rather! they all reign there at once: we mourn in widowhood, but acquiesce in faith: we look on our own life as desolate through separation; but, thinking on the present glory of the departed, we cannot withhold a glad Amen from Cowper’s lines upon his mother.

But oh! the thought that thou art safe and he!
That thought is joy, arise what may to me.

Yes it is a joy! a mournful joy, but a joy unutterable; a joy that draws from the same eye tears of rejoicing, and tears of grief; a joy which, strange to say, melts us into sadness, while it gives a calm, holy, peaceful satisfaction from the full and complete assurance that those we love most are for ever safe with Jesus. This joy is the birthright of God’s faithful children; and this the balm with which in our funeral service, we strive to staunch the mourner’s tears. Who that has ever wept beside the open grave can fail to remember those hallowed words: “I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, from henceforth, blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours”?

But the Church of Rome, at one fatal blow, robs us of all this; and in the Catechism of the Council of Trent, declares, [35a] “Besides (hell,) there is a fire of purgatory, in which the souls of the pious being tormented for a definite time, expiate their sin, that so an entrance may be opened to them, into the eternal country, into which nothing defiled can enter.”

You will here observe four things.

1. That the souls in purgatory are under torture. “CruciatÆ.”

2. That this torture is by fire. [35b]

3. That the persons suffering it are not the wicked, but the pious, i.e. believers, God’s dear children, those to whom Christ would say, “Depart in peace, thy faith hath saved thee.”

4. That the purpose of it is to expiate sin, or make an atonement for transgression before they can be admitted to eternal glory.

So that if we are to believe Rome, we must abandon all our bright hopes for our dear departed brethren. Our mothers, and fathers, and fond friends, who have stuck closer to us than a brother, holy believers, who full of faith, fell asleep in Jesus, are at this present moment, writhing and gnashing their teeth, in the fierce agony of scorching heat; yet glad even of the flame to hide them from the displeasure of that Saviour whom they once delighted to trust and love.

Having thus stated the doctrine, I am well persuaded I might here safely leave it. But it forms one of the bulwarks of the Romish system, and is one of the great sources of Roman wealth. [36a] The parish priests are ordered by their church frequently and diligently to discourse on it. [36b] Let us examine then how the matter stands in the word of God.

I. And 1st, we would remark that there is not a shadow of foundation for it in the Bible. We read of hell, and we read of heaven; we read plainly, “That where the tree falleth there shall it lie.” But of purgatory not a word is to be found.

There are, however, two texts generally quoted to which it may be well briefly to refer.The first is, 1 Cor. iii. 12–15. “Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the tire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.”

One glance is enough to shew that these words have no connection with the subject. The apostle is speaking of the ministry, and compares the ministers who followed him at Corinth to builders raising a temple on the foundation he himself had laid. The temple then is the visible Church; the material, the professing members of it: some of whom, like gold, silver, and precious stones, are shining as true believers to the glory of their Saviour: others, like wood, hay, and stubble, are worthless professors, fit only to be burned. The day of revealing fire refers either to the day of judgment, or the great fearful conflict with the enemy, described by St. Peter as “the fiery trial which is to try you.” [37] The effect will be to separate the tares from the wheat; the precious from the vile; the false from the true; the gold, silver, and precious stones, from the wood, hay, and stubble; and so to reveal the character of the work. There is no allusion then to purgatory. The fire of purgatory is to make expiation for the sins of believers; the day of fire here described is to try the Church and reveal its character.

If possible the other passage has still less bearing on the subject. It is, 1 Pet. iii. 18–20.

“Being put to death in the flesh, but quickened in the spirit: by the which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison: which sometimes were disobedient, when once the longsuffering of God waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water.” This is said to prove that our blessed Lord preached to the spirits in purgatory at his burial. But it does nothing of the kind. Those that had sinned against Noah’s preaching were guilty of disobedience and unbelief. They, therefore, the Church of Rome itself being witness, were not in purgatory but in hell. The true meaning of the text is this: Christ was raised up by the divine power of the Holy Ghost, by which as the eternal God, he preached even in the time of Noah to those wicked persons, who having then rejected him, are now fast bound in the miseries of hell. He preached then, not at the time of the crucifixion, but, as the pre-existent God, at the time of Noah: and preached not to dead souls, but to living men. These two texts are the pillars on which Purgatory rests. They remind us of the two pillars on which stood the house of Dagon. God grant that they may not be equally destructive to the thousands of souls who rest on them!

There is therefore no support for the doctrine; let us now proceed to show,

II. That it is in direct contradiction to the word of God.There are many passages to which we should feel great joy in now referring, where the present blessedness of departed spirits is painted in lively colours by the Holy Ghost; but you will at once see that those only concern our present argument, which describe an immediate entrance into joy and rest.

1. Let us begin then with the language of our blessed Saviour to the dying thief; which shows that they are gathered immediately to a joyful home; “To day thou shalt be with me in paradise.” There can be no question here as to his immediate happiness; there was no need of prayer for the repose of his soul. That very afternoon, when his poor exhausted frame hung lifeless on the cross, when he was carried off as an unclean thing to be buried out of the sight of man; that very afternoon, before the evening closed in, was the happy spirit in paradise with Jesus. And there is something very beautiful in the name here given to the home of Spirits. In 2 Cor. v. 1, it is described as “a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens;” but there is no name given there; here the name is given, but no description; the name is “Paradise.” In paradise there was no pain, no sickness, no sorrow, no death, no sin. Tears were never witnessed there till Adam turned his back on it, and so it is with the home of believers. Neither sin nor sorrow can ever gain admission. The gate is too strait for them, they are left behind with us on earth. In that home holiness is the joy, praise the incense, love the atmosphere, and Christ the light.2. In this home again there is immediate rest. “They rest not day and night,” it is true, “crying, [40a] Holy, holy, holy, &c.;” for to them nothing could be so fatiguing as a pause from praise. Their most toilsome toil is to be silent from giving thanks. But from all labour they rest at once. When the spirit once takes its flight, to that soul the warfare is accomplished, the struggle over, the battle won. Only look at the words of St. John, Revelation xiv. 13. See how they are ushered in. “I heard a voice from heaven.” See how God would have them preserved as the lasting joy of the Church of Christ; for he says, “Write.” Mark their confirmation by the Holy Ghost, “Yea, thus saith the Spirit.” And now see their plain, indisputable testimony to the immediate and complete blessedness of the saints. “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth, yea, thus saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.” There is no delay, no interval, no expiation. They are at once blessed; at once at rest; for they are fallen asleep in Jesus: they have died in the Lord.

3. This immediate blessedness is taught us also from the case of Lazarus. [40b] “When the beggar died he was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom,” not to purgatory; and when there he was comforted in the enjoyment of a rest with God.

4. But above all, the dying spirit passes immediately into the presence of Christ the Saviour.It is most important for us to observe this, for there can be no real joy to the Christian if he be separate from Christ. The pure river of the fountain of life would lose all its charm if it did not proceed out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. The sea of glass, clear as crystal, would have no beauty if the face of Jesus were not reflected in it. The new Jerusalem itself would be no object of desire, though its walls be of jasper, its gate of pearl, its streets of gold, if Christ himself were not the light of it: for the brightest diamond has no brightness in the dark. Yea, heaven itself would become a hell if the Son of God were not the reigning Lord of it.

If we cannot prove, therefore, that the departed believer passes at once into the presence of his Lord, we in fact prove nothing. If for one moment we are to be separated from him, it little matters where. But thanks be to God we can prove it without the possibility of contradiction.

When Stephen died [41a] “he saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God;” saw, as it were, the arm of Christ reaching forth to draw him up to heaven; so he fell down and prayed “Lord Jesus receive my spirit.”

When St. Paul doubted between life and death, he [41b] “had a desire to depart and be with Christ, which was far better.” Death then was a departure into the immediate presence of his Lord. But above all refer to 2 Cor. v. 6, 7, 8. “Therefore we are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord; (for we walk by faith not by sight;) we are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” The idea of this passage is that there are two homes for believers; two dwellings, one on earth, and one in heaven; one in the body, one in the presence of our Lord. While here we know him, but it is by faith alone. “We walk by faith, not by sight.” When there we shall see him in the full brilliancy of his love and glory. And this change is immediate. The veil is very thin that separates the world of flesh from the world of spirits. Every prayer of faith pierces it. The stream is very narrow that separates earth and heaven, and no sooner do we quit the one than we enter on the other; no sooner is the earthly home dissolved, than Christ himself is seen and the heavenly home opens for his people. So long as “we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord;” and we are willing rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord. The departed believer, therefore, is at once found with Christ.

5. But there is another passage in which all these immediate blessings appear summed up in one short, but most expressive, word. “To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” [42]

We should have no fear in resting the question upon this text alone. It places the truth beyond the reach of all attack. “To die is gain,” therefore to die is not to go to purgatory. “To die is gain,” therefore to die is not to be tortured in fire for the expiation of our sin. Nor must we suppose that this refers to St. Paul alone. His acceptance rested on the same terms as ours. He was a sinner pardoned through the Lamb’s blood, and accepted on the same terms as the weakest believer in our congregation. To die was gain; not because he was an Apostle, but because to live was Christ. And if to us to live is Christ, then to us to die is gain.

Look then at the present happiness of believers, the present joy of the new born child of God. He does not see Christ, it is true, with the eye of sense; but he knows him, he loves him, he delights in him, he speaks to him, his soul is filled with joy at the assurance of his grace. “Whom having not seen we love, in whom though now ye see him not, yet believing ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.” In every care and trial he can find a sweet repose, for he knows that Christ is near, and he has the precious promise “The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by him; and the Lord shall cover him all the day long.” So when his frame becomes enfeebled and the time of his departure seems at hand, he can lie down peacefully upon the bed of languishing, for he has the precious promise that the Lord shall strengthen him; the sweet assurance “Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.” Ay! and when the illness itself draws to a close, when all power to alleviate is gone, when the physician’s skill is helpless, and the wife’s affection fruitless; when the dying man is passing alone through the valley of the shadow of death, he is still supported, still happy, still at peace. For the same Lord is nigh. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” Oh! Blessed life! Oh! happy death of the child of God! “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!” [44]

But now suppose the valley crossed. The arm has upheld him through the struggle; the beloved of the Lord has been borne safely through. Is the first sight which meets his affrighted eye the lurid glare of the flashing flames of purgatorial fire?—the first sound that startles his ear the groaning of God’s beloved children writhing under the torments of expiating torture? Is that calm repose on Jesus suddenly changed by one terrific plunge into the scorching agony of a purgatorial flame? Would it be gain thus to die? Would such a death be “far better” than the life of faith? It would be better surely to dwell safely as the beloved of the Lord, than to burn miserably in the expiation of unforgiven sin.

We may conclude then that the doctrine of purgatory is in direct opposition to the word of God, but we have a yet farther, and, if possible, graver charge to urge against it, viz.,

III. That it is in direct opposition to the doctrine of atonement as set forth in scripture.

You will remember the extract already quoted from the Catechism of the Council of Trent, in which it was stated that in the fire of purgatory the souls of the pious make expiation for their sin. Pause for a moment to observe these words. There are two things to be noticed in them, (1.) they assert directly that man’s sufferings can make expiation for his sin, and (2.) they imply that the death of our Lord was not a complete expiation for our sin. Let us examine each part separately.

(1.) First then we have a direct assertion that by enduring pain the believer makes expiation for his soul; that is, that our temporary sufferings satisfy God’s broken law.

If this be true, what occasion was there for the blood of Jesus. Why the stupendous mystery of man’s redemption? Why the agony in the garden? Why the burden of the cross? Why the hiding of God’s countenance? Why the endurance of the curse in our stead? Such a work was surely needless, a mere mistake on the part of Jesus. The atonement is become a fable, if man’s passing pain can make expiation for his sin.

But, again, if pain is expiation, how is it that hell-fire burns for ever? Was ever suffering so intense as that? Was there ever such a scene of woe and misery, of hatefulness and hopelessness, as that? But does it make expiation for the sinner’s sin? Does it blot out the curse? Does the fire burn out its fuel? “It is the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched.” Yea, verily, if the curse of one single sin could be burned out by ten thousand centuries of pain, hell would be no longer hell, for there would be a faint gleam of far distant hope, shining even upon the miseries of the damned.

There is no expiation then in pain. Believers are chastened, but chastening is not atonement. It is God’s gentle discipline by which he prepares his jewels for his crown; and just as the finest gold is wrought most carefully, so the most precious of God’s children are often chastened most heavily, for “whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.” There must be a melting of the gold, before it can be separated from the ore; there must be a rending of the root, before the tree can be taken from the wilderness and transplanted into the garden of the Lord. And so it is with believers. There must be a melting of the heart, a humbling of the earthly will, a weaning of soul, that they may cleave to Christ alone. And this is the purpose for which, beloved, we are chastened. He does it for our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness. Affliction has the same effect that Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace had on the three children in captivity. It could not touch their person, but it burnt the bands that bound them, and enabled them to walk more freely with their Lord. But expiation! That is Christ’s work. “He is the propitiation for our sins,” and if suffering in man could expiate for sin in man, then the suffering of Christ were a waste of blood, a waste of agony, a waste of life, a waste of love.

(2.) And this leads us to our second remark, that the doctrine of expiation through purgatorial fire implies an incompleteness in the atonement of our blessed Lord. If expiation be still needful, then in his atonement there must be something wanting. Nor is this the mere conclusion of a bigoted protestant, it is the bold assertion of the Church of Rome herself. Listen to her canon, “If any man shall say that after the gift of Justification has been received, sin is so remitted to any repentant sinner,” (observe it speaks of justified believers and true penitents) “and the debt of eternal punishment so blotted out, that there remains no debt of temporary punishment to be endured either in this world or the world to come in purgatory, before a way can be opened into the kingdom of heaven, let him be Anathema.” [47]

I feel utterly at a loss in attempting to speak on such an awful passage. Can they remember that they are speaking of the atonement wrought by the Son of God? He gave his own most precious life to satisfy the law, and can any portion of the debt remain? He purchased us with the price of his own most precious blood: is farther payment needed? The eternal Redeemer was our ransom: are we not free? The well beloved of the Father endured the curse as our substitute: was his work so ineffectual that the curse still hangs over the very men he came to save? Awful dishonour to the Son of God! Now Rome thou must indeed be Antichrist, for thou dost rob Christ of his glory; thou strivest to tarnish the beauty of his diadem. He says “Behold the Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world.” But thou contradictest Christ and sayest that there is a remnant left to be punished in the believer still. He says “I, even I, am he, that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.” But thou sayest that the blot is not effaced, that the sin is still remembered, still punished, even in the child of God. He says “I am the way,” “I am the door; by me if any man enter in he shall be saved.” But thou sayest that the door cannot be opened, except it be through purgatorial pain. He says that he has loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and made us kings and priests unto God and the Father. But thou sayest the washing was incomplete, for sin must after all be burned out by fire; that love is still defective, for the saints must yet be punished; the inheritance not fully purchased, for, after all that Christ has done, the justified believer has still to make an expiation for his sin. [49]

No! beloved! we will not for a moment admit the thought of any other expiation, than that wrought out for us by the Lamb of God. And as for our dear departed brethren, nothing that Rome can say shall ever rob us of our delightful hope. They have felt no pain since the day we parted; their sainted spirits have been basking in the sunshine of the countenance of God. I myself have parted with a mother, such a mother that I often wonder if the world can ever more behold her equal: so strong in faith; so ardent in her thirsting after God; so pure in spirit; so sensitive to sin; so beaming in her holy loveliness, that you might almost believe you saw the Father’s name written legibly by the Holy Ghost upon her forehead. To this day do I hear the tones of her dying voice, when in answer to my questions respecting her soul’s peace, she replied “I can reverently say with the deepest humility, ‘Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee.’” And I would rather have this arm torn from its socket, I would rather be scorched and scathed in Moloch’s fire, than I would abandon my firm and fixed persuasion that such love has never been interrupted, that her Redeeming Lord has never left her for a moment; my perfect assurance, that while we were weeping in solemn stillness around her bed of death, she was taking her place amongst the company of palm bearers, and is now standing before the throne, having washed her robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

So also for ourselves! dear brethren! for we too must die; our day is hastening on, our time drawing to its close. A few short years and multitudes amongst us must change their faith for sight, the world of flesh for the world of spirits: a few, short, rapid years, and every one, both you and I, shall find ourselves in heaven or in hell. But let us fear nothing. Only let us be found in Christ, justified through his blood, with our name written in his book of life, and the Father’s name engraven by the Holy Ghost on our forehead, and then neither death or hell can ever prevail to hurt us. In Christ we are safe; washed in his blood we are completely pardoned; clad in his righteousness we are completely justified; and kept in his right hand we are completely and for ever safe.

Only let us be found in Christ. Then the outward man may decay; the poor frame may wax faint and feeble; the eye may become dim, even with the dim fixedness of death: and then, when all earthly power has sunk under exhaustion, the eye will open; a new world will spring up before us; attendant angels will hover around the new-born citizen of heaven; and without tears, or fears, or weakness, we shall behold Christ in the brightness of his glory, and cry aloud in the heartfelt thankfulness of unutterable joy, “Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb.”