Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 August 1895 — TALMAGE’S SERMON. [ARTICLE]

TALMAGE’S SERMON.

JONAH OF OLD SOON TIRED OF ►THE DEVIL’S BUSINESS. . « But It Took Heroic Treatment to Bring Him to Hie Senses—Dr. Tai; mgge Draws Instructive Moral Lessons from Jonah's Misadventure. ’ In Satan’s Service. At this season of the year, when a large portion of the community is journeying either by land or sea, Rev. Or. Talmage, who is still absent on his midsummer preaching and lecturing tour, chose as the subject of his set mon for last Sun“Man Overboard,” the text .being Jonah i., 6: “So the shipmaster come to him, and said unto him: AVhat meanest thou, O sleejier? Arise, call upon thy God if so lie that God will think upon us, that we perish not.” God told Jonah to go to Nineveh on an unpleasant errand. He would not go. He thought to get away from his duty by putting to sea. With pack under his arm. I find him on his way to Joppa, a seaport. He goes down among the shipping, ami says to the men lying around on the rocks, “Which of these vessels sails to-day?” The sailors answer, “Yonder is a vessel going to Tarshish. I think, if you hurry, you may get on board her.” Jonah steps, on board the rough craft, asks how much the fare is. and pays it. Anchor is weighed, sails are hoisted and the Tigging begins to rattle in the strong.breeze of the Mediterranean. Joppa is an exposed harbor, and it does not take long for the vessel to get outon rise broad sea. The sailors like what they call a “spanking breeze,” and the plunge of the vessel from the crest of a tall wave, is exhilarating to those at home on the deep. But the strong breeze becomes a gale, the gale a-hurri-cane. The affrighted passengers ask the captain if he ever saw anything like this before. _ “Oh, yes,” he says; “this is nothing.” Mariners are slow to admit danger to landsmen. But after awhile crash goes the mast, and the vessel pitches so far “abeam’s end” there is a fear she will not be righted. The captain answers few questions and orders the throwing out of boxes and bundles and of so much of the cargo as they can get-at. The captain at last confesses there is but little hope and tells the passengers that they had better go to praying. It is seldom that a sea captain is an atheist. He knows that there is a God, for he has seen him at every point of latitude between Sandy Hook and Queenstown. Captain Moody, commanding flie Cuba of the Cunard line, at Sunday service led the music and sang like a Methodist. The captain of this Mediterranean craft, having set the passengers to praying, goes around examining the vessel at every point. He descends into the cabin to see whether inthe strong wrestling of the waves the vessel had sprung a leak, and he finds Jonah asleep. Jonah had had a wearisome tramp and had spent many sleepless nights about questions of duty, and he is so sound asleep that all the thunder of the storm and the screaming of the passengers does hot disturb him. The captain lays hold of him and.begins to shake him out of his unconsciousness with the cry: “Don’t you see that we are all going to the bottom? Wake up and go to praying, if you have any God to go to. What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish not.” The rest of the story I will not rehearse, for you know it well. To appease the sea they threw Jonah overboard. Learn that the devil takes a man’s money and then sets him down in a poor landing place. The Bible says he paid his fare to Tarshish. But see him get out. The sailors bring him to the side of the ship, lift him over “the guards,” and let him drop with a loud splash into the waves. He paid his fare all the way to_ Tarshish, but diduwtgef ZtHeworth of his money. Neither does any one who turns his back on duty and does that which is not right. There is a young man who, during the past year, has spent a large part of his salary in carousal. What has he gained by it? A soiled reputation, a half-starved purse, a dissipated look, a petulant temper, a disturbed conscience. The manacles of one or two bad habits that are pressing tighter and tighter will keep on until they wear to the bone. You paid your fare to Tarshish, but you have been set down in the midst of a sea of disquietude and perplexity. One hundred dollars for Sunday horse hire! One hundred dollars for wipe suppers! One hundred dollars for eigars! One hundred dollars for frolics that •hall be nameless! Making S4OO for his damnation! Instead of being in Tarshish now, he is in the middle of the Mediterranean. Here is a literary man, tired of the faith of his fathers, who resolves to launch out into what is called free thinking. He buys Theodore Parker’s works for sl2, Renan’s “Life of Christ” for $1.50, Andrew Jackson Davis’ words for S2O. Goes to hear infidels talk at the clubs and to see spiritualism at the table rapping. Talks glibly of David, the psalmist, as an old libertine, of Paul as a wild enthusiast and of Christ as a decent kind of a man—a little weak in some respects, but almost as good ns himself. Talks smilingly of Sunday ns a good day to put a little extra blacking on one’s boots, and of Christians as, for the most part, hypocrites, and of eternity as “the great to be,” “the everlasting now.” or “the infinite what is it.” Some day he gets his feet very wet and finds himself that night chilly. The next morning hns a hot mouth and is headachy. Sends word over to the store that he will not be there to-day. Bathes his feet, has mustard plasters, calls the doctor. The medical man says aside, “This is going to.be a bad case of congestion of the lungs.” Voice fails. Children must be kept down stairs or sent to the neighbors to keep the house ra quite.' s You say, “Send for the minister.” But no; he does not believe in ministers. You “Read the Bible to him.” No; he does not believe--ip the Kiltie. A lawyer comes in, and sitting by* ! bis bedside writes a document that begins: “In the name of God. Amen I, being of sound mind, do make this my last will and testament.” It is certain where the sick man’s body will be in less than a week. It is quite certain who will get his property. But what will become of his soul? It will go into “the great to be,” or “the everlasting now,” or “the infinite what is it.” His soul is in deep waters, and the wind is “blowing great guns.” Death cries, “Overlward with the unbeliever!" A splash! He goes to the bottom. He paid $5 for his ticket to Tarshish when he bought the infidel

books. He landed In perdition! Every farthing you spend in sin satan will swindle you out of. He promises you shall have 30 per cent, or a great dividend. He Ties. He will sink all the capital. You may pay full fare to some sinful success, but you will never get to Tarshish. Learn how soundly men will sleep in the midst of danger. The worst sinner on shipboard, considering the light he had, was Jonah. He was a member of the church, while they were heathen. The sailors were engaged in their lawful calling, following the sea. The merchants on board, I suppose, were going down to Tarshish to barter, but Jonah, notwithstanding his Christian profession, was flying from duty. He was sound asleep in the cabin. He has been motionless for hours —his arms and -feet in the same posture as when he lay down—his breast heaving with deep respiration. Oh, how could he sleep! What if the ship struck a rock! What if it sprang a leak! What if the clumsy Oriental craft should capsize! What would become of Jonah? Unfathomable Depths of Danger. So men sleep souudly now and amid perils infinite. In almost every place, I suppose, the Mediterranean might be soundcd, but no line is long enough to fathom ~the_ profound beneath every impenitent man. Plunging a thousand fathoms down, you cannot' touch bottom. Eternity beneath him, before him, around him! Rocks close by and whirlpools and hot breathed Levanters; yet sound asleep! We try to wake him up, but fail. The great surges of warning break over the hurricane deck —the gong of warning sounds through thecabln—theTxdl rings. “Awake!” cry a hundred voices; yen' sound asleep in the cabin. In the year 1775 the captain of a Greenland whaling vessel found himself at night surrounded by icebergs and “lay to” ■until morning, expecting every moment to be ground to pieces. In the morning he ■ looked about and saw a ship near by. He hailed it. No answer. Getting into a Jioatwith someofthecrew, hepuahed out? for the mysterious craft. Getting near by, he saw through the porthole a man at a stand, as though keeping a logbook. He hailed him. No answer. He went on board the vessel and found the man sitting at the logbook frozen to death. The logbook was dated 1762, showing that the -vessel had' been wandering for thirteen years among the ice. The sailors were found frozen among the hammocks and others in the cabin.—EorthirteeiL_years_ this ship had been carrying its burden of corpses. So from this gospel craft to-day I descry voyagers for eternity. I cry: “Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!” No answer. They float about, tossed and ground by the icebergs of sin, hoisting no sail for heaven. I go on board. I find all asleep. It is a frozen sleep. Ob, that my Lord Jesus would come aboard and lay hold of the wheel, and steer the craft down into the warm gulf stream of his mercy! Awake, thou -that sleepest! Arise from the dead, and -Christ shall give thee lifer

Again, notice that men are aroused by the most unexpected means. If Jonah had been told one year before that a heathen sea captain would ever awaken him to a sense of danger, he would have scoffed at the idea, but here it is done. So now men in strangest ways are aroused from spiritual siripor. A profane man is brought to conviction by the shocking blasphemy of a comrade. A man attending church and hearing a sermon from the text, “The ox knoweth his owner,” etc., goes home unimpressed; but, crossing his barnyard, an ox comes up and lieks his hand, and he says, “There it is now —*the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib,’ but Ido not know God.” The careless remark of a teamster has led a man to thoughtfulness and heaven. The child’s remark, “Father, they have prayers at uncle’s house—why don’t we have them?” has brought salvation to the dwelling. By strangest way and in the most unexpected manner men are awakened. The gai’dener of the Countess of Huntington was convicted of sin by hearing the countess on the opposite side of the wall talk aboyt Jesus. John Hardoak was aroused "Eya dream in which he saw the last day, and the judgesitting, and heard his own name called with terrible emphasis, “John Hardoak, come to judgment!” The Lord has a thousand Ways of waking up Jonah. Would that the messengers of mercy might now find their way down into the sides of the ship, and that many who are unconsciously rocking in the awful tempest of their sin might hear the warning: “What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise and call upon thy God!” Again, learn that a man may wake up too late. If, instead of sleeping, Jonah had been on his knees confessing his sins from the time he went on board the craft, I think that God would have saved him from being thrown overboard. But he woke up too late. The tempest is in full blast, and the sea, in convulsion, is lashing itself, and nothing will stop it now but the overthrow of Jonah. Too Late. So men sometimes wake up too late. The last hour has come. The man has no more idea of dying than I have of dropping down this moment. The rigging is ..all white with the foam of death. How chill the night is! “I must die," he says, “yet not ready. I must push out upon this awful sea, but have nothing with which to pay my fare. The white caps! ! The darkness! The hurricane! How long have I been sleeping? Whole days and I months and years. I am quite awake ! now. I see everything, but it is too late.” Invisible hands take him up. He struggles to get loose. In vain. They bring his soul to the verge. They let it down over the side. The winds howl. The sea opens its frothing jaws to swallow. He has gone forever. And while the canvas cracked, and the yards rattled, and tho ropes thumped the sea took up the funeral dirge, playing with open diapason of midnight storm: “Because I have called, nud ye refused, I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded, but ye have set at naught all my counsel and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity. I will mock when your fear eonieth.” Now, lest any of you should make this mistake, I address yen in the words of the Mediterranean sea captain: “What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God, if so be that God will think lipon us, -that vto perish amL.” . I Lyon have a.. God, j you had better call upon him. Do you say, “I have no God?” Then you had better call upon tour father’s God. When your father was in trouble, whom did he fly to? You heard him, in his old days, fell about some terrible exposure in a snow storm, or at sea, or in battle, or among midnight garrotere, and how he I escaped. Perhaps twenty years before you were born your father made sweet acquaintance with God. There is something in the worn pnges of the Bible he used to read which makes you think your father had a God. In the old religious books lying around the hopse there are passages marked with a lead pencil—passages that

make you think your father was not a godless man, but that, on that dark dny when he lay in the back room dying, he was ready—till ready. But perhaps your father was a bad man— prayerless and a blasphemer, and you never think of him now without a shudder. He worshiped the world or his own appetites. Do not then, I beg of you, call upon your father’s God, but-call on your mother’s God. I think she was good. You repi ember when your father came home drunk late on a cold night, how patient your mother was. You often heard her pray. She used to sit by the hour meditating, as though she were thinking of some good, warm place, where it never gets cold and wherethe bread does not fail and staggering steps never come. Yon remember her now, as she sat, in cap and spectacles, reading her Bible Sunday afternoons. What good advice she used to give you! How black and terrible the hole in the ground looked to you when, with two ropes, they let her down to rest in the graveyard! Ab, I think from your looks that I am on the right track! Awake, O sleeper, and call upon thy mother’s God. But perhaps both your father and inother were depraved. Perhaps your -cradle was rocked hy sin and shame, and it is a wonder that from-such a starting you have come to respectability. Then don’t tail upon the God of either of your parents, I beg of you. But you have children You know God kindled those bright eyes and rounded those healthy limbs and set beating within their breast an immortality. Perhaps in the belief that somehow it would be for the best you have taught them to say an evening prayer, and when they kneel be_side you, and fold their little hands, and Took up, their faces all innocence and love, you know that there is a God somewhere about in the room. I think I am on the right track at last. Awake, O sleeper, and call upop the God of thy children! May he set these little ones to pulling at thy heart until they "cEarnTthee to towhom tonight they will say their little prayers! But alas! alas! some of these men and women are unmoved by the fact that their father had a God. that their mother bad a God, and their children have a God, but they have no God. All pious example to them for nothing. All the divine goodmess for nothing. All warning for nothing. They are sdund asleep in the side of the ship, though the sea and sky are in mail wrestle. ? ■

. Many years ago a man, leaving his family in Massachusetts, sailed from Boston Io China to trade there. On the coast of China, in the midst of a night of storm, he made shipwreck. The adventurer was washed up on the beach senseless—all his money gone. He had to beg in the streets of Canton to keep from starving. For two years there was no communication between himself and family. They supposed him dead. He knew not but that his family were dead. He had gone out as a captain. He was too proud to come back as a private sailor. But after awhile he choked down his pride and sailed for Boston. Arriving there he took an evening train for the center of the State, where he had left his family. Taking the stage from the depot and riding a score of miles, he got home. He says that, going up in front of the cottage in the bright moonlight,, the place looked to him like heaven. He rapped on the window, and the affrighted servant let him in. He went to the room where his wife and child were sleeping. He did not dare to wake them for fear of the shock. .Bending over to kiss his child’s cheek, a tear fell upon the wife’s face and she wakened, and he said: “Mary!” and she knew his voice, and there was an indescribable scene of welcome and joy and thanksgiving to God. To-day I know that many of you are sea-tossed and driven by sin in a worse storm than that which came down on the coast of China, and yet I pray God that you may, like the sailor, live to get home. In the house of many mansions your friends are waiting to meet you. They are wondering why you do not come. Escaped from the shipwrecks of earth may you at last go in! It will be a bright night —a very bright night as you put your thumb on the latch of that door. Once in, you will find the old family faces sweeter than when you last saw them, and there it will be found that he who was your father’s God and your mother’s God and your children’s God is your own most •blessed Redeemer, to whom be glory and dominion throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.