The world\'s great sermons, Volume 3 by Grenville Kleiser

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THE WORLD'S GREAT SERMONS

_COMPILED BY_

GRENVILLE KLEISER

Formerly of Yale Divinity School Faculty; Author of "How to Speak in
Public," Etc.

With Assistance from Many of the Foremost Living Preachers and Other
Theologians

INTRODUCTION BY LEWIS O. BRASTOW, D.D.

Professor Emeritus of Practical Theology in Yale University

VOLUME III

MASSILLON TO MASON

1908

CONTENTS

VOLUME III

MASSILLON (1663-1742).
The Small Number of the Elect

SAURIN (1677-1730).
Paul Before Felix and Drusilla

EDWARDS (1703-1758).
Spiritual Light

WESLEY (1703-1791).
God's Love to Fallen Man

WHITEFIELD (1714-1770).
The Method of Grace

BLAIR (1718-1800).
The Hour and the Event of all Time

DWIGHT (1752-1817).
The Sovereignty of God

ROBERT HALL (1764-1831).
Marks of Love to God

EVANS (1766-1838).
The Fall and Recovery of Man

SCHLEIERMACHER (1768-1834).
Christ's Resurrection an Image of our New Life

MASON (1770-1829).
Messiah's Throne

MASSILLON

THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE ELECT

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Jean Baptiste Massillon was born in 1663, at Hyères, in Provence,
France. He first attracted notice as a pulpit orator by his funeral
sermons as the Archbishop of Vienne, which led to his preferment from
his class of theology at Meaux to the presidency of the Seminary
of Magloire at Paris. His conferences at Paris showed remarkable
spiritual insight and knowledge of the human heart. He was a favorite
preacher of Louis XIV and Louis XV, and after being appointed bishop
of Clermont in 1719 he was also nominated to the French Academy. In
1723 he took final leave of the capital and retired to his see, where
he lived beloved by all until his death in 1742.

MASSILLON

1662-1742

THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE ELECT

_And many lepers were in Israel in the time of Eliseus the prophet;
and none of them was cleansed, saving Naaman the Syrian_.--Luke iv.,
27.

Every day, my brethren, you continue to ask of us, whether the road to
heaven is really so difficult, and the number of the saved really so
small as we represent? To a question so often proposed, and still
oftener resolved, our Savior answers you here, that there were many
widows in Israel afflicted with famine; but the widow of Sarepta was
alone found worthy the succor of the prophet Elias; that the number
of lepers was great in Israel in the time of the prophet Eliseus; and
that Naaman was only cured by the man of God.

Were I here, my brethren, for the purpose of alarming, rather than
instructing you, I had only to recapitulate what in the holy writings
we find dreadful with regard to this great truth; and, running over
the history of the just, from age to age, show you that, in all times,
the number of the saved has been very small. The family of Noah alone
saved from the general flood; Abraham chosen from among men to be the
sole depositary of the covenant with God; Joshua and Caleb the only
two of six hundred thousand Hebrews who saw the Land of Promise;
Job the only upright man in the land of Uz; Lot, in Sodom. To
representations so alarming, would have succeeded the sayings of the
prophets. In Isaiah you would see the elect as rare as the grapes
which are found after the vintage, and have escaped the search of the
gatherer; as rare as the blades which remain by chance in the field,
and have escaped the scythe of the mower. The evangelist would still
have added new traits to the terrors of these images. I might have
spoken to you of two roads--of which one is narrow, rugged, and the
path of a very small number; the other broad, open, and strewed with
flowers, and almost the general path of men: that everywhere, in the
holy writings, the multitude is always spoken of as forming the party
of the reprobate; while the saved, compared with the rest of mankind,
form only a small flock, scarcely perceptible to the sight. I would
have left you in fears with regard to your salvation; always cruel to
those who have not renounced faith and every hope of being among the
saved. But what would it serve to limit the fruits of this instruction
to the single point of setting forth how few persons will be saved?
Alas! I would make the danger known, without instructing you how to
avoid it; I would allow you, with the prophet, the sword of the wrath
of God suspended over your heads, without assisting you to escape the
threatened blow; I would alarm but not instruct the sinner.

My intention is, to-day, to search for the cause of this small number,
in our morals and manner of life. As every one flatters himself he
will not be excluded, it is of importance to examine if his confidence
be well founded. I wish not, in marking to you the causes which render
salvation so rare, to make you generally conclude that few will be
saved, but to bring you to ask yourselves if, living as you live, you
can hope to be saved. Who am I? What am I doing for heaven? And what
can be my hopes in eternity? I propose no other order in a matter of
such importance. What are the causes which render salvation so rare?
I mean to point out three principal causes, which is the only
arrangement of this discourse. Art, and far-sought reasonings, would
be ill-timed. Oh, attend, therefore, be ye whom ye may. No subject can
be more worthy your attention, since it goes to inform you what may be
the hopes of your eternal destiny.

Few are saved, because in that number we can only comprehend two
descriptions of persons: either those who have been so happy as to
preserve their innocence pure and undefiled, or those who, after
having lost, have regained it by penitence. This is the first cause.
There are only these two ways of salvation: heaven is only open to
the innocent or to the penitent. Now, of which party are you? Are you
innocent? Are you penitent?

Nothing unclean shall enter the kingdom of God. We must consequently
carry there either an innocence unsullied, or an innocence regained.
Now to die innocent is a grace to which few souls can aspire; and to
live penitent is a mercy which the relaxed state of our morals renders
equally rare. Who, indeed, will pretend to salvation by the chain of
innocence? Where are the pure souls in whom sin has never dwelt, and
who have preserved to the end the sacred treasure of grace confided to
them by baptism, and which our Savior will redemand at the awful day
of punishment?

In those happy days when the whole Church was still but an assembly of
saints, it was very uncommon to find an instance of a believer who,
after having received the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and acknowledged
Jesus Christ in the sacrament which regenerates us, fell back to his
former irregularities of life. Ananias and Sapphira were the only
prevaricators in the Church of Jerusalem; that of Corinth had only one
incestuous sinner. Church penitence was then a remedy almost unknown;
and scarcely was there found among these true Israelites one single
leper whom they were obliged to drive from the holy altar, and
separate from communion with his brethren. But since that time the
number of the upright diminishes in proportion, as that of believers
increases. It would appear that the world, pretending now to have
become almost generally Christian, has; brought with it into the
Church its corruptions and its maxims.

Alas! we all go astray, almost from the breast of our mothers! The
first use which we make of our heart is a crime; our first desires.
are passions; and our reason only expands and increases on the wrecks
of our innocence. The earth, says a prophet, is infected by the
corruption of those who inhabit it: all have violated the laws,
changed the ordinances, and broken the alliance which should have
endured forever: all commit sin, and scarcely is there one to be found
who does the work of the Lord. Injustice, calumny, lying, treachery,
adultery, and the blackest crimes have deluged the earth. The brother
lays snares for his brother; the father is divided from his children;
the husband from his wife: there is no tie which a vile interest does
not sever. Good faith and probity are no longer virtues except among
the simple people. Animosities are endless; reconciliations are
feints, and never is a former enemy regarded as a brother: they tear,
they devour each other. Assemblies are no longer but for the purpose
of public and general censure. The purest virtue is no longer a
protection from the malignity of tongues. Gaming is become either
a trade, a fraud, or a fury. Repasts--those innocent ties of
society--degenerate into excesses of which we dare not speak. Our age
witnesses horrors with which our forefathers were unacquainted.

Behold, then, already one path of salvation shut to the generality of
men. All have erred. Be ye whom ye may, listen to me now, the time
has been when sin reigned over you. Age may perhaps have calmed your
passions, but what was your youth? Long and habitual infirmities
may perhaps have disgusted you with the world; but what use did you
formerly make of the vigor of health? A sudden inspiration of grace
may have turned your heart, but do you not most fervently entreat
that every moment prior to that inspiration may be effaced from the
remembrance of the Lord?

But with what am I taking up time? We are all sinners, O my God! and
Thou knowest our hearts! What we know of our errors is, perhaps, in
Thy sight, the most pardonable; and we all allow that by innocence
we have no claim to salvation. There remains, therefore, only one
resource, which is penitence. After our shipwreck, say the saints, it
is the timely plank which alone can conduct us into port; there is no
other means of salvation for us. Be ye whom ye may, prince or subject,
high or low, penitence alone can save you. Now permit me to ask where
are the penitent? You will find more, says a holy father, who have
never fallen, than who, after their fall, have raised themselves by
true repentance. This is a terrible saying; but do not let us carry
things too far: the truth is sufficiently dreadful without adding new
terrors to it by vain declamation.

Let us alone examine as to whether the majority of us have a right,
through penitence, to salvation. What is a penitent? According to
Tertullian, a penitent is a believer who feels every moment his former
unhappiness in forsaking and losing his God; one who has his guilt
incessantly before his eyes; who finds everywhere the traces and
remembrance of it.

A penitent is a man instrusted by God with judgment against himself;
one who refuses himself the most innocent pleasures because he had
formerly indulged in those the most criminal; one who puts up with the
most necessary gratification with pain; one who regards his body as an
enemy whom it is necessary to conquer--as an unclean vessel which must
be purified--as an unfaithful debtor of whom it is proper to exact to
the last farthing. A penitent regards himself as a criminal condemned
to death, because he is no longer worthy of life. In the loss of
riches or health he sees only a withdrawal of favors that he had
formerly abused: in the humiliations which happen to him, only the
pains of his guilt: in the agonies with which he is racked, only the
commencement of those punishments he has justly merited. Such is a
penitent.

But I again ask you--Where, among us, are penitents of this
description? Now look around you. I do not tell you to judge your
brethren, but to examine what are the manners and morals of those who
surround you. Nor do I speak of those open and avowed sinners who have
thrown off even the appearance of virtue. I speak only of those who,
like yourselves, live as most live, and whose actions present nothing
to the public view particularly shameful or depraved. They are sinners
and they admit it: you are not innocent, and you confess it. Now are
they penitent? or are you? Age, vocation, more serious employments,
may perhaps have checked the sallies of youth. Even the bitterness
which the Almighty has made attendant on our passions, the deceits,
the treacheries of the world, an injured fortune, with ruined
constitution, may have cooled the ardor, and confined the irregular
desires of your hearts. Crimes may have disgusted you even with sin
itself--for passions gradually extinguish themselves. Time, and
the natural inconstancy of the heart will bring these about; yet,
nevertheless, tho detached from sin by incapability, you are no nearer
your God. According to the world you are become more prudent, more
regular, to a greater extent what it calls men of probity, more exact
in fulfilling your public or private duties. But you are not penitent.
You have ceased your disorders but you have not expiated them. You are
not converted: this great stroke, this grand operation on the heart,
which regenerates man, has not yet been felt by you. Nevertheless,
this situation, so truly dangerous, does not alarm you. Sins which
have never been washed away by sincere repentance, and consequently
never obliterated from the book of life, appear in your eyes as no
longer existing; and you will tranquilly leave this world in a state
of impenitence, so much the more dangerous as you will die without
being sensible of your danger.

What I say here is not merely a rash expression, or an emotion of
zeal; nothing is more real, or more exactly true: it is the situation
of almost all men, even the wisest and most esteemed of the world.
The morality of the younger stages of life is always lax, if not
licentious. Age, disgust, and establishment for life, fix the
heart and withdraw it from debauchery: but where are those who are
converted? Where are those who expiate their crimes by tears of sorrow
and true repentance? Where are those who, having begun as sinners, end
as penitents? Show me, in your manner of living, the smallest trace of
penitence! Are your graspings at wealth and power, your anxieties
to attain the favor of the great--and by these means an increase of
employments and influence--are these proofs of it? Would you wish
to reckon even your crimes as virtues?--that the sufferings of your
ambition, pride, and avarice, should discharge you from an obligation
which they themselves have imposed? You are penitent to the world, but
are you so to Jesus Christ? The infirmities with which God afflicts
you, the enemies He raised up against you, the disgraces and losses
with which He tries you--do you receive them all as you ought, with
humble submission to His will? Or, rather, far from finding in them
occasions of penitence, do you not turn them into the objects of new
crimes? It is the duty of an innocent soul to receive with submission
the chastisements of the Almighty; to discharge with courage the
painful duties of the station allotted to him, and to be faithful to
the laws of the gospel. But do sinners owe nothing beyond this? And
yet they pretend to salvation! Upon what claim? To say that you are
innocent before God, your own consciences will witness against you. To
endeavor to persuade yourselves that you are penitent, you dare not;
and you would condemn yourselves by your own mouths. Upon what then
dost thou depend, O man! who thus livest so tranquil?

These, my brethren, as I have already told you, are not merely advices
and pious arts; they are the most essential of our obligations. But,
alas! who fulfils them? Who even knows them? Ah! my brethren, did you
know how far the title you bear, of Christian, engages you; could you
comprehend the sanctity of your state, the hatred of the world, of
yourself, and of everything which is not of God that it enjoys, that
gospel life, that constant watching, that guard over the passions, in
a word, that conformity with Jesus Christ crucified, which it exacts
of you--could you comprehend it, could you remember that you ought to
love God with all your heart, and all your strength, so that a single
desire that has not connection with Him defiles you--you would appear
a monster in your own sight. How! you would exclaim. Duties so holy,
and morals so profane! A vigilance so continual, and a life so
careless and dissipated! A love of God so pure, so complete, so
universal, and a heart the continual prey of a thousand impulses,
either foreign or criminal! If thus it is, who, O my God! will be
entitled to salvation? Few indeed, I fear, my dear hearers! At least
it will not be you (unless a change takes place) nor those who
resemble you; it will not be the multitude!

Who shall be saved? Those who work out their salvation with fear and
trembling; who live in the world without indulging in its vices. Who
shall be saved? That Christian woman who, shut up in the circle of her
domestic duties, rears up her children in faith and in piety; divides
her heart only between her Savior and her husband; is adorned with
delicacy and modesty; sits not down in the assemblies of vanity; makes
not a law of the ridiculous customs of the world, but regulates those
customs by the law of God; and makes virtue appear more amiable by her
rank and her example. Who shall be saved? That believer who, in
the relaxation of modern times, imitates the manners of the first
Christian--whose hands are clean and his heart pure--who is
watchful--who hath not lifted up his soul to vanity, but who, in the
midst of the dangers of the great world, continually applies himself
to purify it; just--who swears not deceitfully against his neighbor,
nor is indebted to fraudulent ways for the aggrandizement of his
fortune; generous--who with benefits repays the enemy who sought his
ruin; sincere--who sacrifices not the truth to a vile interest, and
knows not the part of rendering himself agreeable by betraying his
conscience; charitable--who makes his house and interest the refuge of
his fellow creatures, and himself the consolation of the afflicted;
regards his wealth as the property of the poor; humble in
affliction--a Christian under injuries, and penitent even in
prosperity. Who will merit salvation? You, my dear hearer, if you will
follow these examples; for such are the souls to be saved. Now these
assuredly do not form the greatest number. While you continue,
therefore, to live like the multitude, it is a striking proof that you
disregard your salvation.

These, my brethren, are truths which should make us tremble! nor are
they those vague ones which are told to all men, and which none apply
to themselves. Perhaps there is not in this assembly an individual who
may not say of himself, "I live like the great number; like those of
my rank, age, and situation; I am lost, should I die in this path."
Now, can anything be more capable of alarming a soul, in whom some
remains of care for his salvation shall exist? It is the multitude,
nevertheless, who tremble not. There is only a small number of the
just who work out severally their salvation with fear and trembling.
All the rest are tranquil. After having lived with the multitude, they
flatter themselves they shall be particularized at death. Every one
augurs favorably for himself, and vainly imagines that he shall be an
exception.

On this account it is, my brethren, that I confine myself to you who
are now here assembled. I include not the rest of men; but consider
you as alone existing on the earth. The idea which fills and terrifies
me is this--I figure to myself the present as your last hour, and the
end of the world! the heavens opening above your heads--the Savior, in
all His glory, about to appear in the midst of His temple--you only
assembled here as trembling criminals, to wait His coming, and hear
the sentence, either of life eternal, or everlasting death! for it is
vain to flatter yourselves that you shall die more innocent than you
are at this hour. All those desires of change with which you are
amused, will continue to amuse you till death arrives. The experience
of all ages proves it. The only difference you have to expect will
most likely be only a larger balance against you than what you would
have to answer for now; and from what would be your destiny, were you
to be judged in this moment, you may almost decide upon what it will
be at death. Now, I ask you--and, connecting my own lot with yours, I
ask it with dread--were Jesus Christ to appear in this temple, in the
midst of this assembly, to judge us, to make the awful separation
between the sheep and the goats, do you believe that the most of us
would be placed at His right hand? Do you believe that the number
would at least be equal? Do you believe that there would even be found
ten upright and faithful servants of the Lord, when formerly five
cities could not furnish that number? I ask you! You know not! I know
it not! Thou alone, O my God, knowest who belong to Thee.

But if we know not who belong to Him, at least we know that sinners
do not. Now, who are the just and faithful assembled here at present?
Titles and dignities avail nothing; you are stript of all these in the
presence of your Savior! Who are they? Many sinners who wish not to be
converted; many more who wish, but always put it off; many others who
are only converted in appearance, and again fall back to their former
course; in a word, a great number, who flatter themselves they have no
occasion for conversion. This is the party of the reprobate! Ah! my
brethren, cut off from this assembly these four classes of sinners,
for they will be cut off at the great day! And now stand forth ye
righteous:--where are ye? O God, where are Thine elect! What remains
as Thy portion!

My brethren, our ruin is almost certain! Yet we think not of it! If in
this terrible separation, which will one day take place; there should
be but one sinner in the assembly on the side of the reprobate, and a
voice from heaven should assure us of it, without particularizing him,
who of us would not tremble, lest he be the unfortunate and devoted
wretch? Who of us would not immediately apply to his conscience, to
examine if its crimes merited not this punishment? Who of us, seized
with dread, would not demand of our Savior, as did the apostles,
crying out, "Lord, is it I?" And should a small respite be allowed
to our prayers, who of us would not use every effort, by tears,
supplication, and sincere repentance, to avert the misfortune?

Are we in our senses, my dear hearers? Perhaps among all who listen to
me now, ten righteous ones would not be found. It may be fewer still.
What do I perceive, O my God! I dare not, with a fixt eye, regard the
depths of Thy judgments and justice! Not more than one, perhaps,
would be found among us all! And this danger affects you not, my dear
hearer! You persuade yourself that in this great number who shall
perish, you will be the happy individual! You, you have less reason,
perhaps, than any other to believe it! You, upon whom alone the
sentence of death should fall, were only one of all who hear me to
suffer! Great God! how little are the terrors of Thy law known to the
world? In all ages the just have shuddered with dread in reflecting on
the severity and extent of Thy judgments, touching the destinies of
men! Alas! what are they laying up in store for the sons of men!

But what are we to conclude from these awful truths? That all must
despair of salvation? God forbid! The impious alone, to quiet his own
feelings in his debaucheries, endeavors to persuade himself that all
men shall perish as well as he. This idea ought not to be the fruit of
the present discourse. It is intended to undeceive you with regard to
the general error, that any one may do whatever is done by others. To
convince you that, in order to merit salvation, you must distinguish
yourself from the rest; that in the midst of the world you are to live
for God's glory, and not follow after the multitude.

When the Jews were led in captivity from Judea to Babylon, a little
before they quitted their own country, the prophet Jeremiah, whom the
Lord had forbidden to leave Jerusalem, spoke thus to them: "Children
of Israel, when you shall arrive at Babylon, you will behold the
inhabitants of that country, who carry upon their shoulders gods of
silver and gold. All the people will prostrate themselves and adore
them. But you, far from allowing yourselves, by these examples, to be
led to impiety, say to yourselves in secret, It is Thou, O Lord! whom
we ought to adore."

Let me now finish by addressing to you the same words.

At your departure from this temple, you go to enter into another
Babylon. You go to see the idols of gold and silver, before which all
men prostrate themselves. You go to regain the vain objects of human
passions, wealth, glory, and pleasure, which are the gods of this
world and which almost all men adore. You will see those abuses which
all the world permits, those errors which custom authorizes, and those
debaucheries, which an infamous fashion has almost constituted as
laws. Then, my dear hearer, if you wish to be of the small number of
true Israelites, say, in the secrecy of your heart, "It is Thou alone,
O my God! whom we ought to adore. I wish not to have connection with
a people which know Thee not; I will have no other law than Thy holy
law; the gods which this foolish multitude adore are not gods; they
are the work of the hands of men; they will perish with them; Thou
alone, O my God! art immortal; and Thou alone deservest to be adored.
The customs of Babylon have no connection with the holy laws of
Jerusalem. I will continue to worship Thee, with that small number
of the children of Abraham which still, in the midst of an infidel
nation, composes Thy people; with them I will turn all my desires
toward the holy Zion. The singularity of my manners will be regarded
as a weakness; but blest weakness, O my God! which will give me
strength to resist the torrent of customs, and the seduction of
example. Thou wilt be my God in the midst of Babylon, as Thou wilt one
day be in Jerusalem above!"

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