THE ROPE OF FAITH. A COLLIER'S SERMON. BRETHREN, I am now going to show you how a poor sinner is saved by grace; and I am sure many of you have been so saved. Let us take the case of a miserable man in the pains of conviction. He is, we will suppose, down at the bottom of the pit of despair. Now, let us ask him how he got there, and how he means to get up. Then leaning over the pulpit to the right hand, the preacher curved and hollowed his hand, and applying his mouth to it spoke aloud this imaginary colloquy, as if from the surface down through the pitshaft, after the manner of the "banksman" at the colliery. "Hallo! hallo! who's down there? 'Oh, minister, a poor sinner; a miserable sinner." "How came you there, my poor brother? how came you there? 66 My load of sins weighed me down, and I fell deeper and deeper." "Oh wretched man that you are; how do you mean to get up?" "I never shall get up. I am lost! lost for ever! I've been trying ever so long to climb up by the side of the shaft, but I cannot; I fall down again." "You cannot succeed of yourself. I'll send you down the rope of faith. Lay hold of that, and you will be got out.-Cling to it; cling to it; here it is!" (imitating the paying out of a rope.) Now then, it must be down to you. Lay hold of the 'only hope set before you.' Have you got hold now?" "I'm so feeble, I can hardly grasp it; but I think I have got a good grip now." 66 Then pull-ahoy, lads! Let us help this poor sinner up. Oh, how heavy he is. Why, what have you got besides yourself hanging on the rope? "Only a few good works of my own.' "Good works! good works! Throw them down. Down with them, or they'll break the rope." Well, if I must, I must; but sure they would do me some good." The preacher continued to represent the lifting, but suddenly stopped, as if his arms had received a check, exclaiming to the imaginary ascendant: "Why, what is the matter now? What are you struggling with?" 66 Doubts and fears, sir. I am afraid I cannot hold on.' Lay firmer hold of the rope. Doubts and fears are nothing to strong faith. But what now? Trembling again. What is it now?" "A great fight of afflictions, master; and I cannot hold on." "Hold on, sinner, hold on; you'll come out of the afflictions. But what is this? shaking again? what can be the matter now?" 66 Strong temptation, master. Oh, I shall fall! I'm falling! Oh, help me! Oh, help me!" 66 So we will. But ah, what dreadful thing has happened now, the weight is three times as great. What a horrible noise. "It's the devil himself has gripped me. minister, I'm lost! I'm lost!" What have you got there?" Hereupon, the excitement in the congregation became intense. Women wept, men rose up, and the minister, seizing his opportunity, continued: - "Now lads, let us all pray and pull together. This poor sinner is in great danger. But Satan cannot long buffet him. The great Captain is with us, and He is too strong for demon and devil." Straining at, and lifting the imaginary load, the preacher greatly excited himself as well as his hearers. Finally, he appeared to succeed in bringing the imperilled and hard-gripped penitent to the surface. Then with great effect he uttered the words, "Lads he's safe! he is saved! There he is! The rope of faith never broke yet, and I knew it would'nt break now." GUTHRIE. Bushnell may attempt to ridicule this preference as "individualism." We can only say that we prefer this kind of individualism, notwithstanding the Doctor's ridicule. That kind of Jewish understanding may be well enough for the Doctor's baby system, but we prefer "in understanding to be men." There is one point which ought to be noticed here, and that is, the teaching of the great Teacher himself. He says, "I am come not to send peace on the earth, but a sword, to set a man at variance with his Father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother in-law. And a man's foes shall be they of his own household" (Matt. x. 34-36). Thus teaching that the rightful diffusion of His truth would inevitably result in the severance of earthly and worldly ties and relationships, and the New Testament teaches that whatever might be the Jewish notion of households, and of family religion, the Christian is to have regard "especially to the household of faith," and to him "of whom the whole family both in heaven and earth is named;" and though we are prepared to recognise and approve the sacredness and value of family religion, and the high and holy principles which may be cultivated there, yet we hold that "the church of Christ is the highest form of social life on earth." The Jewish system, notwithstanding its incorporation of children, has not resulted in perpetuating a "godly seed," and in answering the Doctor on this point, we need do no more than quote his own words, (P. 130):—“ The Jewish race are a striking and sad proof of the manner in which any given mode of life may, or rather must, become a functional property in the offspring. The old Jewish stock of the Scripture times, whatever faults they may have had, certainly were not marked by any such miserably sordid, usurious, garbagevending propensity as now distinguishes the race." It may also be necessary here to give the Doctor's own statement of the connection of his idea of "organic unity," and his theory of Infant baptism. We find it on P. 73,-"Now the true conception is that Baptism is applied to the child on the ground of its organic unity with the parents, imparting and pledging a grace to sanctify that unity, and make it good in the field of religion. By the supposition, however, the child still remains within the known laws of character in the house, to receive under these, whatever good may reach him; not snatched away by an abrupt, fantastical, and therefore incredible grace. He is taken to be the regenerate, not historically speaking, but presumptively, on the ground of his known connection with the parent character, and the divine or church life, which is the life of that character. Perhaps I shall be understood more easily if I say that the child is potentially regenerate, being regarded as existing in connection with powers and causes that contain the fact, before time and separate from time. For when the fact appears historically under the law of time, it is not more truly real, in a certain sense, than it was before. And then the grace conferred, being conferred by no casual act, but resting on the established laws of character in the church and in the house, is not lost by unfaithfulness, but remains and lingers still, though abused and weakened, to encourage new struggles. Thus it will be seen that the doctrine of organic unity I have been asserting, proves its theologic value, as a ready solvent for the rather perplexing difficulties of this subject. Only one difficulty remains, viz. :-that so few can believe the doctrine." Very few indeed, Doctor! And moreover than that, very few will believe it. That difficulty is likely to remain. Another argument in favour of this "organic unity," and consequently in favour of Infant baptism, the Doctor draws from 1 Cor. vii. 14, an old wellbeaten track with the advocates of Infant baptism-"For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband; else were your children unclean, but now they are holy." Now the case which the apostle puts before the Corinthians seems to us to be just this:-That if the believing husband is to put away his wife as unclean, because she does not believe, or vice versa, then to be consistent, the children of such a connection 66 must be put away also, a consequence which, whether admitted or not, drives to the winds the idea intended by what the Doctor calls " organic unity." For if there is not “organic unity" in the case of a believing husband and an unbelieving wife, neither can there be " organic unity" in the children of such a connection, and yet the said children are to be retained as clean," which is all that the apostle means. Yet in another place, when discussing the church membership of children, the Doctor tries to make this same passage do duty in sustaining that theory also, and he doesn't scruple to make the apostle say more than he ever wrote. Hear the Doctor:-"One believing parent, he (Paul) declares, puts the children in the church classification of believers." Really, the Doctor knows better what the apostle meant than the apostle knew himself. It was not a question of church membership at all. It was simply a question whether the man and woman should live together. 66 Another point which ought to be noticed here is the case of Timothy, of which the Doctor makes frequent use. He says (P. 238), That his father was a Greek, and probably an unbeliever; but his mother was a woman of such piety that she omitted nothing in the training of her son, and the apostle speaks of her in the same epistle, even as having let down upon him a kind of piety by entail." All we have to say about that is, that it is a queer conception. We turn rather to the apostle's teaching on the subject. He makes an honourable and proper acknowledgment of the faith of Timothy's ancestors in the maternal line, but at the same time, and knowing what he means, he addresses Timothy as "my own son in the faith." There is nothing in the way of entail about that. The Doctor is not very careful to set forth even the doctrine of regeneration as taught in the New Testament. There we are told that Christ “ came to his own, but his own received him not, but as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believed on his name: who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." That is not much in favour of piety by entail. Nor the words of the apostle Paul either,- Henceforth know we no man after the flesh; yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more" (2 Cor. v. 16). Doctor Bushnell makes much of the Scripture quoted by the apostle Peter on the day of Pentecost-" For the promise is to you and to your children," &c. He attempts to show that the peculiar incidents of that extraordinary Pentecostal scene were to be discontinued, and were to be regarded as of no moment in the ordinary circumstances of the Christian church; yet he is careful to attach enough importance to the promise, so far as it pertains to children, to serve his purpose in connection with what he speaks of as the development of Infant baptism." And then to help himself still further, he draws an imaginary picture of some individual leaving the Pentecost, and going home to the coasts of Africa, or the deserts of Arabia, and there instructing his family and his neighbours in the doctrines of the gospel, becomes puzzled what to do with his children, he concludes that having been baptised himself, he will baptise his children also. Truly the doctor is hard up for facts in illustration of" the development of Infant baptism," when he is thus compelled to weave these imaginary circumstances out of the fertility of his own brain. Hence, he says (P. 90):—“ And in just this way the defect of any bold declarations on the subject of Infant baptism in the writings of the New Testament; and the fact that it appears only in a few historic glimpses, and occasional modes of speech that are subtle implications of the facts, is sufficiently accounted for. But we are inquiring after the mode in which this rite became an accepted element of the Christian organisation, and a part of the Christian practice, as we certainly know that it did at some time afterwards." And again (P. 91), he says, And here we have, in small, just what would most naturally take place in the development of Christianity itself." Truly, Doctor, this is very small indeed. So small a fact, that it is no fact at all. Only a small thing of the imagination. A very small thing indeed. The Doctor reiterates the said 66 DEATH. DEATH to many is a gloomy word, full of dark forebodings. To others it breathes unspeakable terror and alarm, while some try to treat it with disdain and laugh at it as a mere bugbear. But yet there are a goodly number who see in it the appointed valley which leads to immortality and life. The reason why men are differently affected by the thought of death is owing to the difference in their moral states. The mere moralist, whose faith is wrapped up in the napkin of good works, must from the very nature of things look upon death with gloomy forebodings. This feeling moreover will be intensified as conscience becomes quickened. Just as a man grows in virtue, he becomes conscious of his moral insufficiency, his doubts accumulate, and grave questions arise concerning a future destiny. Like a poor cripple who has discovered that the crutch upon which he leans is defective, trusts it very timorously; so man, as he feels the short comings of his own life, must question its sufficiency to sustain him in the trying hour. "If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses? And if in the land of peace wherein thou trustest, they wearied thee; then how wilt thou do in the swellings of Jordan." But some are awfully terrified as the dark valley comes in sight. Those of us who are in the habit of visiting the afflicted and dying could tell strange tales of woe which departed ones have manifested. Never shall we forget the sound of words which once fell from the lips of a conscience smitten man, as the glare of the coming judgment fell upon his guilty soul. Crying out to his wife, he said, "I am going-I am going-O my God, I know not where?" How awful thus to die! Yet for the unpardoned soul how natural! Conceive of a man that has wandered far-very far-from God. Many tried to stop him in the downward course. Some warned him with solemn words; whilst others with faithful and earnest entreaty, plead with him to turn from sin. Prayers were offered for his conversion, tears were shed over his folly. But despite warning, entreaty, prayers and tears, onward he rushes in sin. But now the hand of affliction arrests him. Disease takes hold of his body. There he is on a bed of agony-cut off from his vanities-separated from his lustful gratifications. Think, he must, upon his past life. His sins-his deeds of transgression, like foul birds, come flapping over his conscience with their dirty wings. Where shall he now find refuge? In past days God called but he refused; now the Almighty laughs at his calamity and mocks when his fear is come. He cannot look behind, for his past life is all black with crime. He cannot look forward, for he trembles at the fiery indignation of a coming judgment. Above him is an angry God, below him is a gaping pit. Poor wretch! whither shall he fly, or where shall he cover his defenceless, head. Can we wonder that death to such characters is a word of unspeakable alarm. But some try to laugh at death-we say try to laugh, for whoever succeeded, unless, indeed, at a supposed great distance. It is very easy in the hour of safety to boast about our courage; but how is it when the storm arises. Any chicken-hearted man can put his hands into his pockets and go whistling around the vessel when the day is clear and waters calm; but how is it when the billows roll, when the winds howl, when the ship like a ball is tossed upon the tempestuous main. Men may laugh at death and jeer at eternity when the pulse beats strong and the blood flows freely through the veins; but how is it when the heart ceases to palpitate, when the coffin comes in sight, when eternity opens wide its mouth to engulph us. Come, laughing man, gather all your brave comrades around you. Call for the jovial glass!-take your hand at cards!-sing and be merry! But remember this night thou shalt die. What troubleth thee now? Why art thou dejected? Ah! that one word— death-hath shaken all the laugh out of thee. Now 'tis a terrible reality. The cold waters are wetting thy feet. No longer in the distance as in days of old, when thou didst laugh at the grave, and make a sport of death. But now the serpent evil is around thee. The ravenous monster hath thee in his grip. This night thou must die! Now despite all thy boasted courage like Belshazzar thy loins are trembling, thy knees are smiting, thy heart is heavy. Death makes thee a coward. But here is another man. Tall in stature and jaded in appearance; he is leaning upon a staff. His hair is silvered with the frosts of many winters. His brow is deeply wrinkled as though he had waded through great tribulations. Still a calm resignation is seated on his countenance. He reminds you of a veteran who has passed through many hard fought battles-the scars of this life-conflicts are upon him. No boastful words drop from his lips. He seems to believe more in doing than talking. But he will not stand long before us, as he has already received intimations that his days are numbered. But he does not shrink from the journey. He talks about death as a valley which leads to his heavenly home. The hour of his departure has now arrived. Calmly he starts out for the distant land. But "Father," cries a sorrowful child, "stay with us a few days more." "Do stay father," cries another voice, we cannot spare you yet." "No, no," replies the aged father, "I cannot 66 linger Let me go, why should I tarry? What has earth to bind me here? What but cares and toils and sorrows? What but death and pain and fear?" This is the way the Christian dies. Death to him is but the highway to immortality and life. Do you doubt it? Then come with me and we will visit a dwelling not far from Huddersfield; it is the residence of Mr. Timothy Smith, Cliffe End. In the upper room of this house a loved daughter endured a great fight of affliction. Her name was Betsy Ellen. What a beautiful girl she was! Her character is well portrayed in the words of a poet Betsy Ellen was a member of the church at Salendine Nook. About twenty months since, it pleased God to call her by his grace. The new birth with her seemed like a divine thought dropped in the soul. She said, "I thought my feet were in the wrong way and I could not proceed without seeking directions from Jesus." But the grace given was to be tried. She was to pass to her everlasting mansion through a long and painful affliction. The earthly house of her tabernacle was gradually taken down. But as the earthly house fell, the heavenly mansions came in sight. Come and let us stand by her bed side. Enter the room softly, for angels and the God of angels are present. See that dear suffering one, after fifteen months of painful affliction she is now drawing nigh the river. Her form is wasting; her countenance is pale and languid; but her heart is full of calm trust in Christ. Standing on the brink of eternity she gazes with anxious eye to catch a glimpse of the distant shore. "Mother," she says, do you not see Jesus upon the great white throne of his glory." "Yes, my child, I see him with the eye of faith." "Ah!" but she said, "I see him. Christ is near to me." During her last few days heaven seemed to be in full sight, whilst her countenance beamed with holy joy. Pointing upwards she said— "There is my house and portion fair; My treasure and my heart are there, She lost her voice a few days before her departure, so that it was with difficulty she could be heard. But whenever interrogated, she spoke most confident of Jesus as her |