Accidents, Not Punishments
Spurgeon preached this message in response to two disasters that had hit very
close to home. On Sunday, August 25, 1861, a nightmarish collision between two
trains in the Clayton Tunnel (a 1.5-mile long tunnel between London and
Brighton) had claimed 23 lives and severely injured hundreds. Barely more than
two weeks later, on Monday, September 2, another train wreck in Kentish Town
Fields (in North London) claimed 15 more lives. See:
http://ukhrail.uel.ac.uk/glossary/sigs.html
http://www.hassocksuk.com/clayton_tunnel.htm
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Delivered on Sunday Morning, September the 8th, 1861 by the
Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
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"There were present at that season some that told him of the Galileans, whose
blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus answering said unto
them, suppose ye that these Galileans were sinners above all the Galileans,
because they suffered such things? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye
shall all likewise perish. Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell
and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in
Jerusalem! I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise
perish."—Luke 13:1-5.
THE YEAR 1861 will have a notoriety among its fellows as the year of calamities.
Just at that season when man goeth forth to reap the fruit of his labors, when
the harvest of the earth is ripe, and the barns are beginning to burst with the
new wheat, Death too, the mighty reaper, has come forth to out down his harvest;
full sheaves have been gathered into his garner—the tomb, and terrible have been
the wailings which compose the harvest hymn of death. In reading the newspapers
during the last two weeks, even the most stolid must have been the subject of
very painful feelings. Not only have there been catastrophes so alarming that
the blood chills at their remembrance, but column after column of the paper has
been devoted to calamities of a minor degree of horror, but which, when added
together, are enough to astound the mind with the fearful amount of sudden death
which has of late fallen on the sons of men. We have had not only one incident
for every day in the week, but two or three; we have not simply been stunned
with the alarming noise of one terrific clash, but another, and another, and
another, have followed upon each other's heels, like Job's messengers, till we
have needed Job's patience and resignation to hear the dreadful tale of woes.
Now, men and brethren, such things as these have always happened in all ages of
the world. Think not that this is a new thing; do not dream, as some do, that
this is the produce of an overwrought civilization, or of that modern and most
wonderful discovery of steam. If the steam engine had never been known, and if
the railway had never been constructed, there would have been sudden deaths and
terrible accidents, not withstanding. In taking up the old records in which our
ancestors wrote down their accidents and calamities, we find that the old stage
coach yielded quite as heavy a booty to death as does the swiftly-rushing train;
there were gates to Hades then as many as there are now, and roads to death
quite as steep and precipitous, and traveled by quite as vast a multitude as in
our present time. Do you doubt that? Permit me to refer you to the chapter
before you. Remember those eighteen upon whom the tower in Siloam fell. What if
no collision crushed them; what if they were not destroyed by the ungovernable
iron horse dragging them down from an embankment; yet some badly-built tower, or
some wall beaten by the tempest could fall upon eighteen at a time, and they
might perish. Or worse than that, a despotic ruler, having the lives of men at
his girdle, like the keys of his palace, might fall upon worshippers in the
temple itself, and mix their blood with the blood of the bullocks which they
were just then sacrificing to the God of heaven. Do not think, then, that this
is an age in which God is dealing more hardly with us than of old. Do not think
that God's providence has become more lax than it was, there always were sudden
deaths, and there always will be. There always were seasons when death's wolves
hunted in hungry packs, and, probably, until the end of this dispensation, the
last enemy will hold his periodic festivals, and glut the worms with the flesh
of men. Be not, therefore, cast down with any sudden fear, neither be ye
troubled by these calamities. Go about your business, and if your avocations
should call you to cross the field of death itself, do it, and do it bravely.
God has not thrown up the reins of the world, he has not taken off his hand from
the helm of the great ship, still
"He everywhere hath sway,
And all things serve his might;
His every act pure blessing is,
His path unsullied light."
Only learn to trust him, and thou shalt not be afraid of sudden fear; "thy soul
shall dwell at ease, and thy seed shall inherit the earth."
The particular subject of this morning, however, is this—the use which we ought
to make of these fearful texts which God is writing in capital letters upon the
history of the world. God hath spoken once, yea, twice, let it not be said that
man regardeth it not. We have seen a glimmering of God's power, we have beheld
something of the readiness with which he can destroy our fellow-creatures. Let
us "hear the rod and him that hath appointed it," and in hearing it, let us do
two things. First, let us not be so foolish as to draw the conclusion of
superstitious and ignorant persons—that conclusions which is hinted at in the
text, namely, that those who are thus destroyed by accident are sinners above
all the sinners that be in the land. And, secondly, let us draw the right and
proper inference, let us make practical use of all these events for our own
personal improvement, let us hear the voice of the Savior saying, "Except ye
repent, ye shall all likewise perish."
I. First, then, LET US TAKE HEED THAT WE DO NOT DRAW THE RASH AND HASTY
CONCLUSION FROM TERRIBLE ACCIDENTS, THAT THOSE WHO SUFFER BY THEM SUFFER ON
ACCOUNT OF THEIR SINS.
It has been most absurdly stated that those who travel on the first day of the
week and meet with an accident, ought to regard that accident as being a
judgment from God upon them on account of their violating the Christian's day of
worship. It has been stated even by godly ministers, that the late deplorable
collision should be looked upon as an exceedingly wonderful and remarkable
visitation of the wrath of God against those unhappy persons who happened to be
in the Clayton tunnel. Now I enter my solemn protest against such an inference
as that, not in my own name, but in the name of Him who is the Christian's
Master and the Christian's Teacher. I say of those who were crushed in that
tunnel, think ye that they were sinners above all the sinners "I tell you, all:
but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Or those who perished but
last Monday, think ye that they were sinners above all the sinners that were in
London? "I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."
Now, mark, I would not deny but what there have sometimes been judgments of God
upon particular persons for sin; sometimes, and I think but exceedingly rarely,
such things have occurred. Some of us have heard in our own experience instances
of men who have blasphemed God and defied Him to destroy them, who have suddenly
fallen dead; and in such cases, the punishment has so quickly followed the
blasphemy that one could not help perceiving the hand of God in it. The man had
wantonly asked for the judgment of God, his prayer was heard and the judgment
came. And, beyond a doubt, there are what may be called natural judgments. You
see a man ragged, poor, houseless; he has been profligate, he has been a
drunkard, he has lost his character, and it is but the just judgment of God upon
him that he should be starving, and that he should be an outcast among men. You
see in the hospitals loathsome specimens of men and women foully diseased; God
forbid that we should deny that in such a case—the punishment being the natural
result of the sin—there is a judgment of God upon licentiousness and ungodly
lusts. And the like may be said in many instances where there is so clear a link
between the sin and the punishment that the blindest men may discern that God
hath made Misery the child of Sin. But in cases of accident, such as that to
which I refer, and in cases of sudden and instant death, again, I say, I enter
my earnest protest against the foolish and ridiculous idea that those who thus
perish are sinners above all the sinners who survive unharmed.
Let me just try to reason this matter out with Christian people, for there are
some unenlightened Christian people who will feel horrified by what I have said.
Those who are ready at perversions may even dream that I would apologise for the
breach of the day of worship. Now I do no such thing. I do not extenuate the
sin, I only testify and declare that accidents are not to be viewed as
punishments for sin, for punishment belongs not to this world, but to the world
to come. To all those who hastily look on every calamity as a judgment I would
speak in the earnest hope of setting them right. Let me begin, then, by saying,
my dear brethren, do not you see that what you say is not true? and that is the
best of reasons why you should not say it. Does not your own experience and
observation teach you that one event happeneth both to the righteous and to the
wicked? It is true, the wicked man sometimes falls dead in the street; but has
not the minister fallen dead in the pulpit? It is true that a pleasure-boat, in
which men were seeking their own pleasure on the Sunday, has suddenly gone down;
but is it not equally true that a ship which contained none but godly men, who
were bound upon an excursion to preach the gospel, has gone down too? The
visible providence of God has no respect of persons; and a storm may gather
around the "John Williams" missionary ship, quite as well as around a vessel
filled with riotous sinners. Why, do you not perceive that the providence of God
has been, in fact, in its outward dealings, rather harder upon the good than
upon the bad? For; did not Paul say, as he looked upon the miseries of the
righteous in his day, "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of
all men most miserable?" The path of righteousness has often conducted men to
the rack, to the prison, to the gibbet, to the stake; while the road of sin has
often led a man to empire, to dominion, and to high esteem among his fellows. It
is not true that in this world God does punish men for sin, and reward them for
their good deeds. For, did not David say, "I have seen the wicked in great
power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree?" and did not this perplex
the Psalmist for a little season, until he went into the sanctuary of God, and
then he understood their end? Although your faith assures you that the ultimate
result of providence will work out only good to the people of God, yet your
life, though it be but a brief part of the Divine drama of history, must have
taught you that providence does not outwardly discriminate between the righteous
and the wicked—that the righteous perish suddenly as well as the wicked—that the
plague knows no difference between the sinner and the saint—and that the sword
of war is alike pitiless to the sons of God and the sons of Belial. When God
sendeth forth the scourge, it slayeth suddenly the innocent as well as the
perverse and froward. Now, my brethren, if your idea of an avenging and Awarding
providence be not true, why should you talk as if it were? And why, if it be not
correct as a general rule, should you suppose it to be true in this one
particular instance? Get the idea out of your head, for the gospel of God never
needs you to believe an untruth.
But, secondly, there is another reason. The idea that whenever an accident
occurs we are to look upon it as a judgment from God would make the providence
of God to be, instead of a great deep, a fiery shallow pool. Why, any child can
understand the providence of God, if it be true that when there is a railway
accident it is because people travel on a Sunday. I take any little child from
the smallest infant-class form in the Sunday-school, and he will say, "Yes, I
see that." But then, if such a thing be providence, if it be a providence that
can be understood, manifestly it is not the Scriptural idea of providence, for
in the Scripture we are always taught that God's providence is "a great deep;"
and even Ezekiel, who had the wing of the cherubim and could fly aloft, when he
saw the wheels which were the great picture of the providence of God, could only
say the wheels were so high that they were terrible, and were full of eyes, so
that he cried, "O wheel!" If—I repeat it to make it plain—if always a calamity
were the result of some sin, providence would be as simple as that twice two
made four; it would be one of the first lessons that a little child might learn.
But Scripture teaches us that providence is a great depth in which the human
intellect may swim and dive, but it can neither find a bottom nor a shore, and
if you and I pretend that we can find out the reasons of providence, and twist
the dispensations of God over our fingers, we only prove our folly, but we do
not prove that we have begun to understand the ways of God. Why, look, sirs;
suppose for a moment there were some great performance going on, and you should
step in in the middle of it and see one actor upon the stage for a moment, and
you should say, "Yes, I understand it," what a simpleton you would be! Do you
not know that the great transactions of providence began near six thousand years
ago? and you have only stepped into this world for thirty or forty years, and
seen one actor on the stage, and you say you understand it. Tush! you do not;
you have only begun to know. Only He knoweth the end from the beginning, only He
understands what are the great results, and what is the great reason for which
the world was made, and for which He permits both good and evil to occur. Think
not that you know the ways of God; it is to degrade providence, and to bring God
down to the level of men, when you pretend that you can understand these
calamities and find out the secret designs of wisdom.
But next, do you not perceive that such an idea as this would encourage
Phariseeism? These people who were crushed to death, or scalded, or destroyed
under the wheels of railway carriages, were worse sinners than we are. Very
well, then what good people we must be; what excellent examples of virtue! We do
not such things as they, and therefore God makes all things smooth for us.
Inasmuch as we here traveled some of us every day in the week, and yet have
never been smashed to pieces, we may on this supposition rank ourselves with the
favourites of Deity. And then, do not you see, brethren, our safety would be an
argument for our being Christians?—our having traveled on a railway safely would
be an argument that we were regenerate persons, yet I have never read in the
Scriptures, "We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we have
traveled from London to Brighton safely twice a day." I never found a verse
which looked like this; and yet if it were true that the worst of sinners met
with accidents, it would follow as a natural converse to that proposition, that
those who do not meet with accidents must be very good people, and what
Pharisaical notions we thus beget and foster. But I cannot indulge the folly for
a moment. As I look for a moment upon the poor mangled bodies of those who have
been so suddenly slain, my eyes find tears, but my heart does not boast, nor my
lips accuse—far from me be the boastful cry, "God, I thank thee that I am not as
these men are!" Nay, nay, nay, it is not the spirit of Christ, nor the spirit of
Christianity. While we can thank God that we are preserved, yet we can say, "It
is of thy mercy that we are not consumed," and we must ascribe it to his grace,
and to his grace alone. But we cannot suppose that there was any betterness in
us, why we should be kept alive with death so near. It is only because he hath
had mercy, and been very long-suffering to us-ward, not willing that we should
perish, but that we should come to repentance, that he has thus preserved us
from going down to the grave, and kept us alive from death.
And then, will you allow me to remark, that the supposition against which I am
earnestly contending, is a very cruel and unkind one. For if this were the case,
that all persons who thus meet with their death in an extraordinary and terrible
manner were greater sinners than the rest, would it not be a crushing blow to
bereaved survivors, and is it not ungenerous on our part to indulge the idea
unless we are compelled by unanswerable reasons to accept it as an awful truth?
Now, I defy you to whisper it in the widow's ear. Go home to her and say, "Your
husband was a worse sinner than the rest of men, therefore he died." You have
not brutality enough for that. A little unconscious infant, which had never
sinned, though, doubtless, an inheritor of Adam's fall, is found crushed amidst
the debris of the accident. Now think for a moment, what would be the infamous
consequence of the supposition, that those who perished were worse than others.
You would have to make it out that this unconscious infant was a worse sinner
than many in the dens of infamy whose lives are yet spared. Do you not perceive
that the thing is radically false and I might perhaps show you the injustice of
it best, by reminding you, that it may one day turn upon your own head. Let it
be your own case that you should meet with sudden death in such a way are you
willing to be adjudged to damnation on that account? Such an event may happen in
the house of God. Let me recall to my own, and to your sorrowful recollection,
what occurred when once we met together; I can say with a pure heart, we met for
no object but to serve our God, and the minister had no aim in going to that
place but that of gathering the many to hear who otherwise would not have
listened to his voice and yet there were funerals as the result of a holy effort
(for holy effort still we avow it to have been, and the aftersmile of God hath
proved it so). There were deaths, and deaths among God's people, I was about to
say, I am glad it was with God's people rather than with others. A fearful
fright took hold upon the congregation, and they fled, and do you not see that
if accidents are to be viewed as judgments, then it is a fair inference that we
were sinning in being there—an insinuation which our consciences repudiate with
scorn? However, if that logic were true, it is as true against us as it is
against others, and inasmuch as you would repel with indignation the accusation
that any were grounded or hurt on account of sin, in being there to worship God,
what you repel for yourself repel for others, and be no party to the accusation
which is brought against those who have been destroyed during the last
fortnight, that they perished on account of any great sin.
Here I anticipate the outcries of prudent and zealous persons who tremble for
the ark of God, and would touch it with Uzzah's hand. "Well," says one, "but we
ought not to talk like this, for it is a very serviceable superstition, because
there are many people who will be kept from travelling on a Sunday by the
accident, and we ought to tell them, therefore, that those who perished,
perished because they traveled on Sunday." Brethren, I would not tell a lie to
save a soul, and this would be telling lies, for it is not the fact I would do
anything to stop Sunday labor and sin, but I would not forge a falsehood even to
do that. They might have perished on a Monday as well as on a Sunday. God gives
no special immunity any day of the week, and accidents may occur as well at one
time as at another, and it is only a pious fraud when we seek thus to prey upon
the superstition of men to make capital for Christ. The Roman Catholic priest
might consistently use such an argument, but an honest Christian man, who
believes that the religion of Christ can take care of itself without his telling
falsehoods, scorns to do it. These men did not perish because they traveled on a
Sunday. Witness the fact that others perished on the Monday when they were on an
errand of mercy. I know not why or wherefore God sent the accident. God forbid
that we should offer our own reason when God has not given us his reason, but we
are not allowed to make the superstition of men an instrument for the advancing
the glory of God. You know among Protestants there is a great deal of popery. I
meet with people who uphold infant baptism on the plea, "Well, it is not doing
any hurt, and there is a great deal of good meaning in it, and it may do good,
and even confirmation may be blessed to some people, and therefore do not let us
speak against it." I have nothing to do with whether the thing does hurt or not,
all I have to do with is whether it is right, whether it is scriptural, whether
it is true, and if the truth does mischief, which is a supposition we can by no
means allow, that mischief will not lie at our door. We have nothing to do but
to speak the truth, even though the heavens should fall, I say again, that any
advancement of the gospel which is owing to the superstition of men is a false
advance, and it will by-and-bye recoil upon the people who use such an
unhallowed weapon. We have a religion which appeals to man's judgment and common
sense, and when we cannot get on with that, I scorn that we should proceed by
any other means; and, brethren, if there be any person who should harden his
heart and say, "Well, I am as safe on one day as another," which is quite true,
I must say to him, "The sin of your making such a use as this of a truth must
lie at your own door, not at mine; but if I could keep you from violating the
Christian's day of rest by putting before you a superstitious hypothesis, I
would not do it, because I feel that though I might keep you from that one sin a
little time, you would by-and-bye grow too intelligent to be duped by me, and
then you would come to look upon me as a priest who had played upon your fears
instead of appealing to your judgment." Oh! it is time for us to know that our
Christianity is not a weak, shivering thing, that appeals to the petty
superstitious fears of ignorant and darkened minds. It is a manly thing, loving
the light, and needing no sanctified frauds for its defense. Yes, critic! turn
thy lantern upon us, and let it glare into our very eyes; we are not afraid,
truth is mighty and it can prevail, and if it cannot prevail in the daylight, we
have no wish that the sun should set to give it an opportunity. I believe that
very much infidelity has sprung from the very natural desire of some Christian
people to make use of common mistakes. "Oh," they have said, "this popular error
is a very good one, it keeps people right; let us perpetuate the mistake, for it
evidently does good." And then, when the mistake has been found out, infidels
here said, "Oh, you see now these Christian people are found out in their
tricks." Let us have no tricks, brethren; let us not talk to men as though they
were little children, and could be frightened by tales of ghosts and witches.
The fact is, that this is not the time of retribution, and it is worse than idle
for us to teach that it is.
And now, lastly—and then I leave this point—do you not perceive that the
un-Christian and un-Scriptural supposition that when men suddenly meet with
death it is the result of sin, robs Christianity of one of its noblest arguments
for the immortality of the soul? Brethren, we assert daily, with Scripture for
our warrant, that God is just, and inasmuch as he is just, he must punish sin,
and reward the righteous. Manifestly he does not do it in this world. I think I
have plainly shown that in this world, one event happeneth to both; that the
righteous man is poor as well as the wicked, and that he dies suddenly as well
as the most graceless. Very well, then, the inference is natural and clear, that
there most be a next world in which these things must be righted. If there be a
God, he must be just; and if he be just, he must punish sin; and since he does
not do it in this world, there therefore must be another state in which men
shall receive the due reward of their works, and they that have sown to the
flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption, while they that have sown to the
Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. Make this world the reaping
place, and you have taken the sting out of sin. "Oh," says the sinner, "if the
sorrows men endure here be all the punishment they will have, we will sin
greedily." Say to them, "No; this is not the world of punishment, but the world
of probation; it is not the court of justice, but the land of mercy; it is not
the prison of terror, but the house of long-suffering;" and you have opened
before their eyes the gates of the future; you have set the judgment-throne
before their eyes; you have reminded them of "Come, ye blessed," and "Depart, ye
cursed;" ye have a more reasonable, not to say a more Scriptural, ground of
appeal to their consciences and to their hearts.
I have thus spoken with the view of putting down as much as I can the idea which
is too current among the ungodly, that we as Christians hold every calamity to
be a judgment. We do not; we do not believe that those eighteen upon whom the
tower in Siloam fell were sinners above all the sinners that were in Jerusalem.
II. Now to our second point. WHAT USE, THEN, OUGHT WE TO MAKE OF THIS VOICE OF
GOD AS HEARD AMIDST THE SHRIEKS AND GROANS OF DYING MEN? Two uses; first,
inquiry, and secondly, warning.
The first inquiry we should put to ourselves is this: "Why may it not be my case
that I may very soon and suddenly be cut off? Have I a lease of my life? Have I
any special guardianship which ensures me that I shall not suddenly pass the
portals of the tomb? Have I received a charter of longevity? Have I been covered
with such a coat of armor that I am invulnerable to the arrows of death? Why am
not I to die?" And the next question it should suggest is this: "Am not I as
great a sinner as those who died? Are there not with me, even with me, sins
against the Lord my God? If in outward sin others have exceeded me, are not the
thoughts of my heart evil? Does not the same law which curses them curse me? I
have not continued in all the things that are written in the book of the law to
do them. It is as impossible that I should be saved by my works as that they
should be. Am not I under the law as well as they by nature, and therefore am
not I as well as they under the curse? That question should arise. Instead of
thinking of their sins which would make me proud, I should think of my own which
will make me humble. Instead of speculating upon their guilt, which is no
business of mine, I should turn my eyes within and think upon my own
transgression, for which I must personally answer before the Most High God."
Then the next question is, "Have I repented of my sin? I need not be inquiring
whether they have or not: have I? Since I am liable to the same calamity, am I
prepared to meet it? Have I felt, through the Holy Spirit's convincing power,
the blackness and depravity of my heart? Have I been led to confess before God
that I deserve his wrath, and that his displeasure, if it light on me, will be
my just due? Do I hate sin? Have I learned to abhor it? Have I, through the Holy
Spirit, turned away from it as from a deadly poison, and do I seek now to honor
Christ my Master? Am I washed in his blood? Do I bear his likeness? Do I reflect
his character? Do I seek to live to his praise? For if not, I am in as great
danger as they were, and may quite as suddenly be cut off, and then where am I?
I will not ask where are they? And then, again, instead of prying into the
future destiny of these unhappy men and women, how much better to inquire into
our own destiny and our own state!
"What am I? my soul, awake,
And an impartial survey take."
Am I prepared to die? If now the gates of hell should be opened, shall I enter
there? If now beneath me the wide jaws of death should gape, am I prepared with
confidence to walk through the midst of them, fearing no evil, because God is
with me? This is the proper use to make of these accidents; this is the wisest
way to apply the judgments of God to our own selves and to our own condition. O
sirs, God has spoken to every man in London during these last two weeks; he has
spoken to me, he has spoken to you, men, women, and children. God's voice has
rung out of the dark tunnel,—has spoken from the sunset and from the glaring
bonfire round which lay the corpses of men and women, and he has said to you,
"Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man cometh."
It is so spoken to you that I hope it may set you inquiring, "Am I prepared? am
I ready? am I willing now to face my Judge, and hear the sentence pronounced
upon my soul?"
When we have used it thus for inquiry, let me remind you that we ought to use it
also for warning. "Ye shall all likewise perish." "No," says one, "not likewise.
We shall not all be crushed, many of us will die in our beds. We shall not all
be burned, many of us will tranquilly close our eyes." Ay, but the text says,
"Ye shall all likewise perish." And let me remind you that some of you may
perish in the same identical manner. You have no reason to believe that you may
not also suddenly be cut off while walking the streets. You may fall dead while
eating your meals—how many have perished with the staff of life in their hands!
Ye shall be in your bed, and your bed shall suddenly be made your tomb. You
shall be strong, hale, hearty, and in health, and either by an accident or by
the stoppage of the circulation of your blood, you shall be suddenly hurried
before your God. Oh! may sudden death to you be sudden glory!
But it may happen with some of us that in the same sudden manner as others have
died, so shall we. But lately in America, a brother, while preaching the Word,
laid down his body and his charge at once. You remember the death of Dr.
Beaumont, who, while proclaiming the gospel of Christ, closed his eyes to earth.
And I remember the death of a minister in this country, who had but just given
out the verse—
"Father, I long, I faint to see
The place of thine abode;
I'd leave thine earthly courts and flee
Up to thy house, my God,"
when it pleased God to grant him the desire of his heart, and he appeared before
the King in his beauty, then, may not such a sudden death as that happen to you
and to me?
But it is quite certain that, let death come when it may, there are some few
respects in which it will come to us in just the same manner as it has to those
who have so lately been hurried away. First, it will come quite as surely. They
could not, travel as fast as they would, escape from the pursuer. They could not
journey where they may, from home or to home, escape the shaft when the time had
come. And so shall we perish. Just as surely, as certainly as death has set his
seal upon the corpses which are not covered with the sod, so certainly shall he
set his seal on us (unless the Lord should come before), for "it is appointed
unto all men once to die, and after death the judgment." There is no discharge
in this way; there is no escape for any individual by any bye-path, there is no
bridge over this river; there is no ferry-boat by which we may cross this Jordan
dryshod. Into thy chill depths, O river, each one of us must descend, in thy
cold stream, our blood must be frozen; and beneath thy foaming billows our head
must sink! We, too, must surely die. "Trite," you say, "and commonplace" and
death is commonplace, but it only happens once to us. God grant that that once
dying may perpetually be in our minds, till we die daily, and find it not hard
work to die at the last.
Well, then, as death comes both to them and to us surely, so will it come both
to them and to us most potently and irresistibly. When death surprised them,
then what help had they? A child's card house was not more easily crushed than
these ponderous carriages. What could they do to help one another? They are
sitting talking side by side. The scream is heard, and ere a second cry can be
uttered, they are crushed and mangled. The husband may seek to extricate his
wife, but heavy timbers have covered her body, he can only find at last her poor
head, and she is dead, and he takes his sorrowful seat by her side, and puts his
hand upon her brow, until it is stone cold, and though he has seen one and
another plucked with broken bones from the midst of the ruined mass, he has to
leave her body there. Alas! his children are motherless, and himself robbed of
the partner of his bosom. They could not resist; they might do what they would,
but as soon as the moment came, on they went, and death or broken bones was the
result. So with you and me, bribe the physician with the largest fee, but he
could not put fresh blood into your veins; pay him in masses of gold, but he
could not make the pulse give another throb. Death, irresistible conqueror of
men, there is none that can stand against thee, thy word is law, thy will is
destiny! So shall it come to us as it did to them; it shall come with power, and
none of us can resist.
When it came to them, it came instantly, and would not brook delay. So will it
come to us. We may have longer notice than they, but when the hour has struck
there shall be no postponing it. Gather up thy feet in thy bed, O Patriarch, for
thou must die and not live! Give the last kiss to thy wife, thou veteran soldier
of the cross. Put thy hands upon thy children's head, and give them the dying
benediction, for all thy prayers cannot lengthen out thy life, and all thy tears
cannot add a drop to the dry wellspring of thy being. Thou must go, the Master
sendeth for thee, and he brooks no delay. Nay, though thy whole family should be
ready to sacrifice their lives to buy thee but an hour of respite, it must not
be. Though a nation should be a holocaust, a willing sacrifice, to give its
sovereign another week in addition to his reign, yet it must not be. Though the
whole flock should willingly consent to tread the dark vaults of the tomb, to
let their pastor's life be spared but for another year, it must not be. Death
will have no delay; the time is up, the clock has struck, the sand has run out,
and as certainly as they died when their time was come, in the field by sudden
accident, so certainly must we.
And then, again, let us remember that death will come to us as it did to them,
with terrors. Not with the crash of broken timbers, perhaps, not with the
darkness of the tunnel, not with the smoke and with the steam, not with the
shrieks of women and the groans of dying men, but yet with terrors. For meet
death where we may, if we be not in Christ, and if the shepherd's rod and staff
do not comfort us, to die must be an awful and tremendous thing. Yes, in thy
body, O sinner, with downy pillows beneath thy head, and a wife's tender arm to
bear thee up, and a tender hand to wipe thy clammy sweat, thou will find it
awful work to face the monster and feel his sting, and enter into his dread
dominion. It is awful work at any time, and at every time, under the best and
most propitious circumstances, for a man to die unprepared.
And now I would send you away with this one thought abiding on your memories; we
are dying creatures, not living creatures, and we shall soon be gone. Perhaps,
as here I stand, and rudely talk of these mysterious things, soon shall this
hand be stretched, and dumb the mouth that lisps the faltering strain, power
supreme, O everlasting King, come when thou mayest, oh! mayest thou ne'er
intrude upon an ill-spent hour; but find me wrapped in meditation high, hymning
my great Creator; doing works of mercy to the poor and needy ones, or bearing in
my arms the poor and weary of the flock, or solacing the disconsolate, or
blowing the blast of the gospel trumpet in the ears of deaf and perishing souls!
Then come when thou wilt, if thou art with me in life, I shall not fear to meet
thee in death. But oh, let my soul be ready with her wedding-garment, with her
lamp trimmed and her light burning, ready to see her Master and enter into the
joy of her Lord! Souls, ye know the way of salvation, ye have heard it often,
hear it yet again! "He that believeth on the Lord Jesus has everlasting life."
"He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; he that believeth not shall
be damned." "Believe thou with thy heart, and with thy mouth make confession."
May the Holy Ghost give the grace to do both, and this done, thou mayest say,
"Come, death, and some celestial band,
To bear my soul away!"