Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 January 1890 — TALMAGE IN WON. [ARTICLE]

TALMAGE IN WON.

The Great Brooklyn Pastor Preaches in the World’s Metropolis. “The Philippian Earthquake” is the Snbject of a Host Eloquent Discourse—“ Believe on the Lord and Thou Shalt b 9 Saved. ” Rev. T. De Witt Talmage preached in the city of London last Sunday to a very large and uiodt appreciative congregation, taking for his text Acts xvi, 81: ‘ Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou- shall be saved.” He said: Jails am dark, dull, damp, loathsome places even now; but they were Worse in the apostolic times. I imagine, to-day, we are standing in the Philippian dungeon. Do you not hear the groan of those incarcerated ones who for ten years have not seen the sunlight, and the deep sigh of women who remember their father’s house, and mourn over their wasted estates? Listen again. It is the cough of a consumptive, or the struggle of one in a nightmare of a great horror. You listen again, and hear a culprit, his chains rattling as he rolls over in his dreams, and you say: “God pity the prisoner.” But there is another sound in that prison. It is a song of joy and gladness. \v bat a place to sing ip! The music comes winding through the corridors of the prison, and in all the dark wards the whisper is heard: “tt hat’s that? What’s that?” It is the song of Paul and Silas. They cannot sleep. They have been whipped, very badly whipped. The long gashes on their backs are bleeding yet. They lie flat on the cold ground, their feet fast in wooden sockets, and of course they cannot sleep. But they can sing. Jailor, what are you doing with these people? Why have they been put in here? O, they have been, trying to make the world better. Is that all? That is all. A pit for Joseph. A lion's cave for Daniel. A blazing furnace for Shadrach, Clubs for John Wesley. An auatnema for Philip .vielancthon. A dungeon for Paul and Silas. But while we are standing in the gloom of the Philippian dungeon, and we near the mingling voices of sob, and groan, anti blasphemy* and hallelujah, suddenly an earthquake! The iron bars of the prison twist, the pillars crack off, the solid masonry begins to heave and rock till all the doors swing open and the walls fall with a terrific crash. Tho jailer, feeling himself responsible for these prisoners, and feeling suicide to be Brutus killed himself and Cato killed himself aud Cassius killed himself—puts his swordto his own heart, proposing with one strong, keen thrust to put an end to his excitement and agitation. But Paul cries out: “Stop! stop! Do thyself no harm. We are all here.” Then I see tho jailer running through tho dust and amid the ruin of that prison, and I see him throwing himself down at the feet of these prisoners, crying! 1 out: “vVhat shall I do? What shall I dor’ Did Paul answer: “Get out of this place before there is another earthquake; put handcuffs and hopples on these other prisoners, lest they get away?” Mo word of that kind. Compact, thrilling, tremendous answer; answer memorable all through earth and heaVen: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shall be saved." Well, we have all read of the earthquake in Lisbon, in Lima, in Aleppo and in Caraceas; but we live iu a latitude where in all our memory there has not been one sevore volcanic disturbance. And yet we have seen fifty earthquakes. Here is a man who has been building up a large fortune. Ris bid on the money market was felt in all the cities. He thinks he has got beyond all annoying rivalries in trade, and he says to himself: “Now I am free and safe from all possible perturbation.” Bat a national panic strikes the foundations of the commercial world, and crash! goes all that magnificent business establishment. HO is a'man who has built up a very beautiful home. His daughters have just come homo from the seminary with diplomas of graduation. His sons have started in life, honest, temperate and pure. When the evening lights are struck there is a happy and an unbroken family circle- But there has been an accident down at the beach. The young man ventured too far out in the surf. The telegraph hurled the terror up to the city. An earthquake struck under the foundations of that beautiful home. The piano closed; the curtains dropped ; the laughter hushed. Crash! go all those domestic hopes, and pro.pects, and expectations. So. my friends, we have alt felt the shaking down of some great trouble, and there was a time when --we-were as much excited as this man of the text, and we cried out as he did: “What shall I do? What shall I do?” The same reply that the apostle made to him is appropriate to us: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” There are some documents of so little importance that you do not care to. put any more than your last name under them, or even your initials; but there are some documents of so great importance that you write out. your full name. So the Saviour in some parts of the Bible is called “Lord,” and l in other parts of the Bible he is called “Jesus,” and in other parts of the Bible hi is called “Chris but that there might be no mistake about this passage, all three names come in to-gether--“the Lord Jesus Christ.” Mow, who is this Being that you want me to trust in and believe in? Men sometimes come to me with credentials and certificates of good character; but I cannot trust them. There is some dishonesty in their looks that makes me know I shall be cheated if I confide in them. You c nnot put your heart’s confidence in a man until you know what stuff he is made of, and am 1 unre sonable this morning, when I stop too ask you who this is that vou want me to trust ini No man would think of venturing his life on a .vessel going out to sea, that had never been inspected. No, you must have the certificate hung amidships, telljng how m ny tons it carries, and how long ago it was built, and who built it, and all aboni it. And you canfiSt expect me to risk the Cargo of my immortal interests on board any craft till you tell me what it is made of, and where it was made, and what it is When, then, I ask you who this is you wast me to trust in, you tell me be was a very attractive person. You tell me that the contemporary writers describe him, and they give the color of his eyes,and the color of his hair, and they describe his whole appearance as beidg resplendent. Christ did not tell the children to oome to him. “Suffer little children to co.ne unto me,* was not spoken to the children; it was spoken to the Pharisees The children had come without any invitation. No sooner did Jesns appear than the little ones pitched from their mothers’ arms, an avalanche of beauty and love, into his hip. “Suffer little children to oome onto me,” That was addressed Vo the Pharisee#; not the children Christ did not ask John to put his heal down ou his bosom; John could dot help but put his head there Such eyes, sqch cheeks such a chin, such hair, such physical condition and appearance—why, it must have been eomptet&y. ceptrvatiffg add winsome. I suppose “a look at him was just to love him. Ot how attractive his manner

Why, when they saw Christ coming * along the street, they rap into their j houses, and they wrapped up their invalids as quick as they could, and brought them out that he might look at them. O! there was something so pleasant, so inviting, so cheering in everything he did, m his very look. When these sicu ones were brought out did he say: “Take away these sores; do not trouble me with these leprosies?” No, no; there was a kind look, there was a gentle word, there was a healing touch. They could not keep away from him. In addition to this softness of character, there was a fiery momentum. How the old hypocrites trembled before him. How the kings of the earth turned pale. Here is a plain man with, a few sailors at his hack, the palace of the Caesars, making that padace quake to the foundations, and uttering a word of mercy and kindness which throbs through all the earth, and through all the heavens, and through all the ages. O ! he was a loving Christ. But it was not effeminacy, or insipidity of character ; it was accompanied with majesty, infinite and omnipotent. Lest the world should not realize his earnestness, this Christ mounts the cross. You say: “If Christ has to die, why not let him take some deadly portion and lie on a couch in some bright and beautiful home? Ml he must die. let him expire amid all kindly attentions” No the world must hear the hammers on the ' heads of the spikes The world must listen to the death rattle of the sufferer. The world must feel his warm blood dropping on each cheek, while it looks up into the face of his anguish. And sd the cross must be lifted, and the hole is dug on the top of Calvary. It must be dug three feet deep, and then the cross is laid on the ground, and the sufferer is stretched upon 3gsg6d the nails are pounded through" nerve, and muscle, and bone, through the right hand, through the left hand; and then they shake his right hand to see if it is fast, and then they shake his left to see if it is fast, and then they heave up the wood, half a dozen shoulders under the weight, and they put the end of the cross to the mouth of the hole, and they plunge it in, all the weight of his body coining down for the first time on tho spikes; ajid while some hold the cross Upright, others throw in the dirt and trample it down, and trample it hard. O, plant that tree well and thoroughly, for it is to bear fruit such as no other tree ever bore. Why did Christ endure it? He could have taken those rocks, and with them crushed his cruciflers. He could have reached up and grasped the sword of the omnipotent God and with one -clean cut have tumbled them into perdition. But no, he was to die. He must die. His life for my life. His life for your life. In one of the European cities a young man died on the scaffold for the crime of murder. Some time after, the mother of this young man was dying, and the priest came in. and she made confession to the priest that she was the murderer, and not her son; in a moment of• anger she had struck her husband a blow that slow him. The son came suddenly into the room, and was washing away the wounds and trying to resuscitate his father, when some one looked through the window and saw him, and supposed him to be the criminal. That young man died for his own mother. You say : “It was wonderful that he never exposed her.” But I toll you of a grander thing. Christ, the Son of God, died not for his mother, not for his father, but for his sworn enemies. O, such a Christ as that—so loving, so sacrificing — can you not trust him? I think there are many under the spirit of God who are saying: “I. will trust him if you will tell me how;” and the great question asked by thousands in this assemblage is: “How? how?” And while I answer your question I look up and utter the prayer which Rowland Hill so often uttered in the midst of his sermons: “Master, help!” How are you to trust in- Christ? Just as you trust any one. You trust your partner in business with inport.int things. if a commercial house give you a note payable three months hence, you expect the payment of that note at the end of thr e months. You have perfect confidence in their word and in their ability. You go home to-day. You expect there will be food on the table. You have confidence in that. Now, I ask you to have the same confidence in the Lord Jesus Christ He says: “You believe; I take away your sins;” and they are all taken away. “What!” you say, “before 1 pray any more? Before I read my Bible any more? Before I cry over my sins any more?” Yes, this moment. Believe /with alt your heart and you are saved. Whv, Christ is only waiting to get from you what you give to scores of people every day. What is that? Confidence. If these people whom you trust day by day are more worthy than Christ, if they are more faithful than Christ, if they have done more than Christ ever did, then give them the preference; but if you really think that Christ is as trustworthy as they are, then deal with him as fairly. “Oh,” says some one in a light way, “I believe that Christ was born in Bethlehem, and I believe that he died on the cross.” Do you believe it with your head or your heart ? I will illustrate the difference. You are in your own house. In the morning you open a newspaper, and you read how Capt Braveheart on ihe sea risked his life for the salvation of his passengers. You say: “What a grand fellow he must have been! His family deserves very well of the country.” You fold the newspaper and sit down at the table, and perhaps do not think of the incident again. That is historical faith. But now yon are on the sea, and it is night, and you are asleep, and are awakened by the shriek of “Fire!” You rush out on the deck. You hear, amid the wringing of the hands and the fainting, the cries: “No hope! wo are lost!” The sail puts out its wings of fire, the ropes make a burning ladder in the night he ivens, tbe spirit of the wreck hisses in the waves, and on the hurricane deck shakes out its banner of smoke and darkness. “Down with the life boats l” cries the captain. “Down with the life boats!” People rush into them. The boats are about full. Room only for one more man. You are standing on the ddek beside the captain. >.ho shall it be? Yon or the captain? The captain says: “You.” You jump and are saved. He stands there, and dies. Now, yon believe that Capt. Braveheart sacrificed himself for bis passengers, but you believe it with love, with tears, with hot and long continued exclamations, with grie* at his loss and with joy at your deliverance. That is saving faith. In other woids, what you believe with all tbe heart, and believe in regard to yourself. On this his hinge turns my sermon; aye, the salvation of year immortal souL Yon often go across a bridge you know nothing about You do not know who built the bridge, yon do not know what material it is made of; but you oome to it, and walk over it, and ask no questions. And here is an arched bridge blasted from the “Rock of Ages,” and built by the architect of the whole universe, spanning the j dark gulf between ain and righteousness, and alTGod asks you is to walk across it; ' and you etort, and you come to ft, and you stop, and you go a little way on and you stop, nod you fall back

* and yon experiment Yon say: “How do | I know ihat bridge will hold me?” instead of marching on with firm step, asking no questions, but feeling that the strength of the eternal God is under you. O, was tnere ever a prize offered so cheap as pardon and heaven are offered to you? For hovrprnch? A million dollars? It is certainly worth more than that But cheaper than that you can have it. Tein thousand dollars? Less than that Five thousand dollars? Less than that One dollar? Less than that One farthing? Less than that “Without money and without price.” No money to pay. No journey to take. No penance to suffer. Only just one decisive action of the soni: “Believe on the Lord Jos us Christ, and thou shalt be to be saved? I cannot tell you. No man, no angel can tell you. But 1 can hint at it For my text brings me up to this point: “Thou shalt be saved.” It means a happy life here, and a peaceful death and a blissful eternity. It is a grand thing to go to sleep at night and to get up in the morning, and to do business all day feeling that all is right between my heart and God. No accident no sickness, no persecution, no peril, no sword can do me any permanent damage. lam a forgiven child of God, and he is bound to see me through. The mountains may depart the earth may burn, the light of the stars may be blown out by the blast of the judgment hurricane; but life and death, things present and things to come, are mine. Yea, farther than that—it means a peaceful death. Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Sigourney, Dr.. Young and almost- all the poets have said handsome thing about death. There is nothing beautiful about it. When we stand by the white and rigid features of those whom we love, and they give no answering pressure of the hand, and no returning kiss of the lip, we do not want anybody poeting around about us. Death is loathsomeness, and midnight, and the wringing of the heart until the tendrils snap and curl in the torture unless Christ be with us. I confess to you an infinite fear, a consuming horror, of death unless Christ shall be with me. I would rather go down into a cave of wild beasts or a jungle of reptiles than into the grave, unless Christ goes with me. Will you tell ms that I am to be carried out from my bright borne, and put away in the darkness? 1 cannot bear darkness. At the first coming of the evening I must have the gas lit, and the further on in life I get. the morel like to have my friends around about me. And am Ito be put off for thousands of years in a dark place, with no one to speak to? When the holidays come, and the gifts are distributed, shall 1 add no joy to. the “Merry Christmas” or the “Happy New Year?” Ah, do not point down to the hole in the ground, the grave, and call it a beautiful place; unless there be some supernatural illumination, I shudder back from it. My whole nature revolts at it. But now this glorious lamp is lifted above the grave and all the darkness is gone, and the way is clear. I look into it now without a single shudder. Now my anxiety is not about death; my anxiety is that I may live aright, for I know that if my life is consistent when I come to the last hour, and this voice is silent* and these eyes are closed, and these hands with which I beg for your eternal salvation to-day are folded over the still heart, that then I shall only begin to live. What power is there in anything to chill me in the last hour if Christ wraps around me the skirt of his own garment? What darkness can fall upon my eyelids then, amid the heavenly daybreak? O death, 1 will not fear thee then! Back to thy cavern of of darkness, thou robber of all the earth. Fly, thou despoiler of families. With this battle ax I hew thee in twain from helmet to sandal, the voice of Christ sounding all over the earth, and through the heavens: “O death, I will.be thy plague. O grave, I

will be thy destruction. To be saved is to wake up in the presence of Christ. You know when Jesus was up* on earth how happy he made every house he went into, and when he brings us up to his house how great our glee. His voice has more music in it than is to be heard in all the oratorios of eternity. Talk not about banks dashed with efflorescence. Jesus is the chier bloom of heaven. We shall see the very face that beamed sympathy in Bethany, and take the very hand that dropped its blood from , the short beam of the cross. O, I want to ’ stand in eternity with him. Toward that harbor I steer. Toward that goal I run. I shall be satisfied when. 1 awake in his like- | ness. Oh, broken hearted men aud women, how sweet it wiH be in that good land to ; pour all your hardships, and bereave- ; ments, and losses into the loving ear of Christ, and then have him explain why it was best for you to be sick, and why it was best for you to be widowed, and why it was best for you to be persecuted, and why j it was best for you to be tried, and have him point to an elevation proportionate to your disquietude here, saying; “You suffered with me on earth, come up now and be glorified with me in heaven.” Some one went into a house where there had been a good deal of trouble and said to the woman there ; “You seem to be lonely .” “Yes,” she said, “I am lonely.” “How many in the family!” “Only myself.” “Have you had any children!” “I had seven children.” “Where are they?” I “Gone.” “All gone?” “AIL” “All dead?” “All.” Then she breathed a long sigh into the loneliness, and said: “O. sir, I have been a good mother to the grave.” And so there are hearts here that are utterly broken down by the bereavements of life. I point you to-day to the eternal balm of heaven. Are there any here that lam missing this morning? O, you poor waiting maid! your heart’s sorrow poured in no human ear, lonely and sad! how glad you will be when Christ shall disband all your sorrows and crown you queen unto God and the , Lamb forever! O, aged men and women, | fed by his love and warmed by his grace for three score years and ten! will not your decrepitude change for the leap of a heart when you come to look face to face upon him whom, haying not seen, you love? : O, that will be the Good Shepherd, not Out in the night and watching to keep off the wolves, but with the iambs reclining on the sun lit hilL That will be the Captain of our Salvation, | not amid the roar, and crash, and boom of battle, but amid his disbanded troops keep- { ing victorious festivity. That will be the Bridegroom of the Church coming from i afar, the bride leaning on his arm while he looks down into her face and says: “Behold, thou art fair, my love! Behold, thou art fair.” Count Tolstoi has written a new novel which depicts a family tragedy—the mur-] der of a woman by her husband. It is said that the eminent writer’s treatment of the problems of education, love and conjugal' life has made a profound impression upon those who have seen the manuscript. The danger of Tolstoi’s fiction is that be puts too much philosophy in it. Krupp, the maker of big guns, has founded a fund of $125,000 for the benefit of those of. his workmen who wish to borrow money at low rates for the purpose of building homes for themselves.