Review and Herald, Vol. 17, No. 4.
A SHORT SERMON ON 1 PET. IV, 7Page 1
"But the end of all things is at hand; be ye therefore sober and watch unto prayer." We will show (1.) where this scripture has its application. (2.) Upon what authority the Apostle makes the statement, "The end of all things is at hand." (3.) We will thence draw some important practical conclusions. I. Where does this text apply? Much depends upon correctly settling this question. Was it true in the Apostle's time that the end of all things was at hand? i. e., the second coming of Christ, the resurrection of the dead, and the general judgment? We think not. No man can believe so who takes the Bible for his guide. The text must therefore be applied down in the waiting time [Luke xii, 36]; in the time when the second coming of Christ is near at hand. This is also proven by other scriptures which have a very important bearing upon this point: "Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober and hope to the END for the grace that is to be brought unto you AT the revelation of Jesus Christ." 1 Pet. i, 13. Here is an address which can apply to none others than those who live in the generation which extends up to the second advent. For none others can hope to the end. He did not say, Hope till death, as many would have it; but hope to the end. The hoping is a work which must extend entirely up to the end. The same idea is adduced in the following: "Looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." Tit. ii, 13. The fact that watching and prayer are enjoined in immediate connection with the text is conclusive proof that it cannot apply in any other than in the waiting and watching time. "Be ye therefore sober and watch unto prayer." "Watch, therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come." Matt. xxiv, 42. These plain and unequivocal scriptures are sufficient to settle this question, and we submit it to the reader. II. We will in the next place show upon what authority the statement, "The end of all things is at hand" is made. 1. This is upon the authority of prophecy. In the second and seventh chapters of Daniel's prophecy is given the outlines of the history of the world from the time of the Babylonian kings to the second advent of Christ and the setting up of the kingdom of God. In chap. ii, is given the record of a great and terrible image. This image represents four universal empires: The Babylonian, Medo-Persian, Grecian and Roman. It also represents the division and subdivision of the fourth. This is brought to view by the two legs and ten toes; showing that Rome would be divided, first into two divisions and secondly into ten kingdoms. The same ideas are brought out in chap. vii. The dreadful and terrible beast represents the fourth kingdom, the ten horns the subdivided state of Rome into ten kingdoms; for the ten horns are ten kings. Verse 4. And the little horn the papal power which is to endure till the day of judgment. Verses 21, 22; 2 Thess. ii, 3-8. Succeeding those four universal empires is presented the fifth, which is the kingdom of God. Chap ii, 44, and vii, 14, 18, 22, 27. Where now are we? What link of this great prophetic chain do we occupy? and what way-marks to the kingdom of God have we passed? We have passed Babylon the head of gold, and the lion with eagles' wings. Hab. i, 6. The Medo-Persian empire, the silvery breast and arms and the bear with three ribs in his mouth, is also passed away. Greece, the sides of brass, the leopard with four heads and four wings of a fowl, which once ruled the nations of the earth, with all her terrestrial glory, has fallen to rise no more. We have also passed Rome with her world renowned Cæsar. History records the mournful account of her great fall. We have passed Eastern and Western Rome, the legs of iron. We have traveled for more than 1260 years among the ten kings, the toes of the image and the horns of the beast. And up to near 1798 our path has been stained with the blood shed by the little horn, in which are the eyes of a man and a mouth speaking great things, into whose hands the saints, times and laws of God were given for 1260 years. What do we look for next? The rise of another earthly power? No. We look next to see the image smitten upon the toes, and all worldly powers to be dashed to pieces [Ps. ii, 9], and then to see the kingdom of God set up; for "in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed." Chap ii, 44. This evidence brings us down into the last link of this prophetic chain—down into the link which is to be succeeded by the everlasting kingdom of God. Truly, therefore we are now living in the time when the "end of all things is at hand." 2. The fulfillment of signs. Jesus taught his disciples that he would visit this earth again. And that his people might know when to look for him he gave certain signs, and assures us that when these are fulfilled we may know that his coming is near even at the doors. He has given us signs in the sun, moon, stars and earth. "Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven; and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken. And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven, and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory." Matt. xxiv, 29, 30. A number of very important items are brought to view in this scripture. 1. Those days. 2. The tribulation of those days. 3. The signs which were to appear after this tribulation. 4. The second coming of the Son of man to take place after the fulfillment of the signs. 1. Those days. This declaration must refer to the 1260 years of Papal supremacy. For the pope was to have dominion 1260 days [Rev. xii, 6] of prophetic time, which is just 1260 years.26 2. The tribulation. This stands in connection with the days spoken of and hence must refer to the Papal persecution. The pope was to persecute the saints and make war with them. "I beheld and the same horn made war with the saints, and prevailed against them." "And he shall speak great words against the Most High, and shall wear out the saints of the Most High. . . . and they shall be given into his hand until a time times and the dividing of times." Dan. vii, 21, 25. And there was given him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months." Rev. xiii, 5. The length of time spoken of in each of these scriptures is the same, being 1260 years. During this time millions of God's dear saints were put to death in the most cruel and painful manner. This was truly the greatest tribulation that ever came upon any people since the world was. Matt. xxiv, 21. 3. The signs. These were in part to succeed the tribulation, but not the 1260 days or years. Our Saviour said the tribulation should be shortened for the sake of the elect. Matt. xxiv, 22. The tribulation was shortened under the influence of the reformers, so that after about the year 1775 or near that, there has been no general persecution. What comes next? Immediately shall the sun be darkened and the moon shall not give her light. Here we call attention to a very important axiom in the study of prophecy: "No false fulfillment of prophecy can fill both the event and the time of the event." The events are that the sun shall be darkened and the moon shall not give her light. The time is immediately after the tribulation of those days, but in the days; or, as Mark says, "In those days after the tribulation of those days," &c., [chap. xiii 24], which locates the time near 1798. The sun was darkened May 19th 1780, and the night following, the moon utterly refused to shine. Here we have the events fulfilled with a fulfillment of the time also, which shows that we do not mistake in our views of this prophecy. The facts of this matter are beautifully expressed in verse by one who no doubt was a witness of the events: Let us adore and bow before
The sovereign Lord of might,
Who turns away the shining day
Into the shades of night. "Nineteenth of May, a gloomy day,
When darkness veiled the sky,
The sun's decline may be a sign
Some great event is nigh. "Let us remark how black and dark
Was the ensuing night;
And for a time the moon's decline,
Which did not give her light." The next event in order is the falling of the stars. This was fulfilled in 1833. This brings us down into the time of which our Saviour says, "So likewise ye when ye shall see all these things know that it is near even at the doors. Verily I say unto you, this generation shall not pass till all these things be fulfilled." Verses 33, 34. 4. The coming of the Son of God. This therefore is the next great event before us. The foregoing is but a small amount of the testimony which might be adduced on this subject. This however is enough to warrant the language of the text: "The end of all things is at hand." III. We will now draw some important practical conclusions. 1. We should now live soberly, righteously, and godly. Tit. ii, 12. We should pray without ceasing. 1 Thess. v, 17. 3. Being the children of light we should not walk in darkness, but in the light, that that day come not upon us as a thief in the night. Verses 4-6. 4. We should ask the blessing of God upon all our works, and in thanksgiving receive every blessing given to us. Verse 18. How considerate then should we be lest we engage in something in which we cannot ask the blessing of God to follow us! Jesus, help conquer!
My spirit is sinking,
Deep waters of sorrow go over my head;
Weeping and trembling,
And fearing and shrinking,
I watch for the day, and night cometh instead.
Bitter the cup
I am hourly drinking—
How thorny the path that hourly I tread! Jesus, help conquer!
For, fainting and weary,
Scarcely my hands can their weapons sustain;
The way seems so desolate,
Painful and dreary—
How shall I ever to heaven attain!
Jesus, great Captain,
If thou be not near me,
How shall I ever the victory gain? Jesus, help conquer!
Earth holds out her lure,
And mortal affections yearn after the prize;
Scarcely my heart
Can the struggle endure;
Scarce can I lift up my tear-blinded eyes.
Jesus, Redeemer!
Thy promise is sure—
Speak to my spirit, and bid me arise. Jesus, help conquer!
There is not an hour
Of sorrow or joy but is ordered by thee;
Thou dost cut down,
Who hast planted the flower—
Tempest or calm at thy bidding shall be.
Look on my sorrow,
And give me the power
Humbly to wait till thou comfortest me. Jesus, help conquer!
Lord, turn not away!
See with what power the billows increase!
Give me thy love
For my comfort and stay,
Then shall my trembling and murmuring cease.
Then shall my spirit
Grow strong for the fray—
Then shall my weary heart rest in thy peace. Jesus, help conquer!
I cry unto thee!
Hardly my heart the petitions can frame;
All is so dark
And so painful to me,
All I can utter, sometimes, is thy name.
Jesus, help conquer!
My portion now be,
Though all else should change, be thou ever the same. To point out with precision all the mistakes which exist at the present day on the awful subject of religion, would far exceed our limits. No mention therefore is intended to be made of the opinions or the practice of any particular body of people; nor will any notice be taken of any of the peculiarities of the numerous sects and parties which have risen up among us. It will be sufficient for the present purpose to hazard some slight remarks on a few of those common classes of characters which belong more or less to most general bodies. There are, among many others, three different sorts of religious professors. The religion of one consists in a sturdy defense of what they themselves call orthodoxy, an attendance on public worship, and a general decency of behaviour. In their views of religion, they are not a little apprehensive of excess, not perceiving that their lies on the other side. They are far from rejecting faith or morals, but are somewhat afraid of believing too much, and a little scrupulous about doing too much, lest the former be suspected of fanaticism and the latter of singularity. These Christians consider religion as a point which they, by their regular observances, having attained, there is nothing further required but to maintain the point they have reached, by a repetition of the same observances. They are therefore satisfied to remain stationary, considering that whoever has obtained his end is of course saved the labor of pursuit; he is to keep his ground without troubling himself in searching after an imaginary perfection. These frugal Christians are afraid of nothing so much as superfluity in their love, and supererogation in their obedience. This kind of fear however is always superfluous, but most especially in those who are troubled with the apprehension. They are apt to weigh in the nicely poised scales of scrupulous exactness, the duties which must of hard necessity be done, and those which without much risk may be left undone; compounding for a larger indulgence by the relinquishment of a smaller; giving up, through fear, a trivial gratification to which they are less inclined, and snatching doubtingly, as an equivalent, at one they like better. The gratification in both cases being perhaps such as a manly mind would hardly think worth contending for, even were religion out of the question. Nothing but love to God can conquer love of the world. One grain of that divine principle would make the scale of self-indulgence kick the beam. These persons dread nothing so much as enthusiasm. Yet if to look for effects without their predisposing causes; to depend for heaven on that to which heaven was never promised, be features of enthusiasm, then are they themselves enthusiastic. The religion of a second class we have already described. It consists in a heart devoted to its Maker; inwardly changed in its temper and disposition, yet deeply sensible of its remaining infirmities; continually aspiring, however to higher improvements in faith, hope and charity, and thinking that "the greatest of these is charity." These, by the former class, are reckoned enthusiasts, but they are in fact, if Christianity be true, acting on the only rational principles. If the doctrines of the gospel have any solidity, if its promises have any meaning, these Christians are building on no false ground. They hope that submission to the power of God, obedience to his laws, compliance with his will, trust in his word, are through the efficacy of the eternal Spirit, real evidences, because they are vital acts of genuine faith in Jesus Christ. If they profess not to place their reliance on works, they are however more zealous in performing them than the others, who professing to depend on their good deeds for salvation are not always diligent in securing it by the very means which they themselves establish to be alone effectual. There is a third class—the high flown professor, who looks down from the giddy height of antinomian delusion on the other two, abhors the one and despises the other, concludes that the one is lost, and the other in a fair way to be so. Though perhaps not living himself in any course of immorality which requires the sanction of such doctrines, he does not hesitate to imply in his discourse that virtue is heathenish, and good works superfluous if not dangerous. He does not consider that though the gospel is an act of oblivion to penitent sinners, yet it nowhere promises pardon to those who continue to live in a state of rebellion against God, and of disobedience to his laws. He forgets to insist to others that it is of little importance even to believe that sin is an evil (which however they do not always believe), while they persist to live in it; that to know everything of duty except the doing it, is to offend God with an aggravation, from which ignorance itself is exempt. It is not giving ourselves up to Christ in a nameless, inexplicable way, which will avail us. God loves an humble, not an audacious faith. To suppose that the blood of Christ redeems us from sin while sin continues to pollute the soul, is to suppose an impossibility. To maintain that it is effectual for the salvation, and not for the sanctification of the sinner, is to suppose that it acts like an amulet, an incantation, a talisman, which is to produce its effect by operating on the imagination, and not on the disease. The religion which mixes with human passions and is set on fire by them, will make a stronger blaze than that light which is from above, which sheds a steady and lasting brightness on the path, communicates a sober but durable warmth to the heart. It is equable and constant; while the other, like culinary fire, fed by gross materials, is extinguished the sooner from the fierceness of the flame. That religion which is merely seated in the passions, is not only liable to wear itself out by its own impetuosity, but to be driven out by some other passion. The dominion of violent passions is short. They dispossess each other. When religion has had its day, it gives way to the next usurper. Its empire is no more solid than it is lasting, when principle and reason do not fix it on the throne. The first of the above classes consider prudence as the paramount virtue in religion. Their antipodes, the flaming professors, believe a burning zeal to be the exclusive grace. They reverse St. Paul's collocation of the three Christian graces, and think that the greatest of these is faith. Though even in respect of this grace their conduct and conversation too often give us reason to lament that they do not bear in mind its genuine and distinctive properties. Their faith, instead of working by love, seems to be adopted from a notion that it leaves the Christian nothing to do, rather than because it is its nature to lead him to do more and better than other men. In this case, as in many others, that which is directly contrary to what is wrong, is wrong also. If each opponent would only barter half his favorite quality with the favorite quality of the other, both parties would approach nearer to the truth. They might furnish a complete Christian between them, i. e., provided the zeal of the one was sincere and the prudence of the other honest. But the misfortune is, each is as proud of not possessing the quality he wants, because his adversary has it, as he is proud of possessing that of which the other is destitute, and because he is destitute of it. Among the many mistakes in religion, it is commonly thought that there is something so unintelligible, absurd, and fanatical in the term conversion that those who employ it run no small hazard of being involved in the ridicule it excites. It is seldom used but ludicrously, or in contempt. This arises partly from the levity and ignorance of the censurer, but perhaps as much from the imprudence and enthusiasm of those who have absurdly confined it to real or supposed instances of sudden or miraculous changes from profligacy to piety.27 But surely, with reasonable people we run no risk in asserting that he who being awakened by any of those various methods which the Almighty uses to bring his creatures to a knowledge of himself, who, seeing the corruptions that are in the world, and feeling those with which his own heart abounds, is brought, whether gradually or more rapidly, from an evil heart of unbelief, to a lively faith in the Redeemer; from a life, not only of gross vices, but of worldliness and vanity, to a life of progressive piety; whose humility keeps pace with his progress; who, though his attainments are advancing, is so far from counting himself to have attained, that he presses onward with unabated zeal, and evidences by the change in his conduct, the change that has taken place in his heart—Such a one is surely as sincerely converted and the effect is as much produced by the same divine energy as if some instantaneous revolution in his character had given it a miraculous appearance. The doctrines of Scripture are the same now as when David called them “a law converting the soul and giving light to the eyes.” This is perhaps the most accurate and comprehensive definition of the change for which we are contending, for it includes both the illumination of the understanding, and the alteration in the disposition. If then this obnoxious expression signify nothing more nor less than that change of character which consists in turning from the world to God, however the term may offend, there is nothing ridiculous in the thing. Now as it is not for the term for which we contend, but for the principle conveyed by it, so it is the principle and not the term which is the real ground of objection; though it is a little inconsistent that many who would sneer at the idea of conversion, would yet take it extremely ill if it were suspected that their hearts were not turned to God. Reformation, a term against which no objection is ever made, would if words continued to retain their primitive signification, convey the same idea. For it is plain that to reform means to make anew. In the present use, however, it does not convey the same meaning in the same extent, nor indeed does it imply the operation of the same principle. Many are reformed on human motives, many are partially reformed; but only those who, as our great poet says, are “reformed altogether,” are converted. There is no complete reformation in the conduct affected without a revolution in the heart. Ceasing from some sins, retaining others in a less degree, or adopting such as are merely creditable, or flying from one sin to another, or ceasing from the external act without any internal change of disposition, is not Christian reformation. The new principle must abolish the old habit, the rooted inclination must be subdued by the substitution of an opposite one. The natural bias must be changed. The actual offense will no more be pardoned than cured, if the inward corruption be not eradicated. To be “alive unto God through Jesus Christ” must follow “the death unto sin.” There cannot be new aims and ends where there is not a new principle to produce them. We shall not choose a new path until a light from heaven direct our choice and “guide our feet.” We shall not “run the way of God’s commandments” till God himself enlarge our heart. We do not, however, insist that the change required is such as precludes the possibility of falling into sin; but it is a change which fixes in the soul such a disposition as shall make sin a burden, as shall make the desire of pleasing God the governing desire of a man’s heart; as shall make him hate the evil which he does; as shall make the lowness of his attainments the subject of his deepest sorrow. A Christian has hopes and fears, cares and temptations, inclinations and desires, as well as other men. God in changing the heart does not extinguish the passions. Were that the case, the Christian life would cease to be a warfare. We are often deceived by that partial improvement which appears in the victory over some one bad quality. But we must not mistake the removal of a symptom for a radical cure of the disease. An occasional remedy might remove an accidental sickness, but it requires a general regimen to renovate the diseased constitution. It is the natural but melancholy history of the unchanged heart that from youth to advanced years, there is no other revolution in the character but such as increases both the number and quality of its defects; that the levity, vanity, and self-sufficiency of the young man is carried into advanced life, and only meet and mix with the defects of a mature period, that, instead of crying out with the royal prophet, “O remember not my old sins,” he is inflaming his reckoning by new ones; that age, protecting all the faults of youth furnishes its own contingent of vices; that sloth, suspicion, and covetousness swell the account which religion has not been called in to cancel; that the world though it has lost the power to delight, has yet lost nothing of its power to enslave. Instead of improving in candor by the inward sense of its own defects, that very consciousness makes him less tolerant of the defects of others, and more suspicious of their apparent virtues. His charity in a warmer season having failed to bring him in that return of gratitude for which it was partly performed, and having never flowed from the genuine spring, is dried up. His friendships, having been formed on worldly principles, or interest, or ambition, or convivial hilarity, fail him. One must make some sacrifices to the world, is the prevailing language of the nominal Christian. “What will the world pay you for your sacrifices? replies the real Christian. Though he finds that the world is insolvent, that it pays nothing of what it promised, for it cannot bestow what it does not possess—happiness, yet he continues to cling to it almost as confidently as if it had never disappointed him. Were we called upon to name the object under the sun which excites the deepest commiseration in the heart of Christian sensibility, which includes in itself the most affecting incongruities, which contains the sum and substance of real human misery, we should not hesitate to say, an irreligious old age. The mere debility of declining years, even the hopelessness of decrepitude, in the pious, though they excite sympathy, yet it is the sympathy of tenderness unmixed with distress. We take and give comfort from the cheering persuasion that the dim and failing eyes will soon open on a world of glory. Dare we paint the reverse of the picture? Dare we suffer the imagination to dwell on the opening prospects of hoary impiety? Dare we figure to ourselves that the weakness, the miseries, the terrors we are now commiserating, are ease, are peace, are happiness, compared with the unutterable perspective? There is a fatal way of lulling the conscience by entertaining diminishing thoughts of sins long since committed. We persuade ourselves to forget them, and we therefore persuade ourselves that they are not remembered by God. But though distance diminishes objects to the eye of the beholder, it does not actually lessen them. Their real magnitude remains the same. Deliver us merciful God, from the delusion of believing that secret sins, of which the world has no cognizance, early sins, which the world has forgotten, but which are known to “him with whom we have to do,” become by secrecy and distance as if they had never been. “Are not those things noted in this book?” Perhaps if we remember them, God may forget them, especially if our remembrance be such as to induce a sound repentance. If we remember them not he assuredly will. The holy contrition which should accompany this remembrance, while it will not abate our humble trust in our compassionate Redeemer, will keep our conscience tender and our heart watchful. We do not deny that there is frequently much kindness and urbanity, much benevolence and generosity in men who do not even pretend to be religious. These qualities often flow from constitutional feeling, natural softness of temper, and warm affections; often from an elegant education, that best human sweetener and polisher of social life. We feel a tender regret as we exclaim, “What a fine soil would such dispositions afford to plant religion in?” Well bred persons are accustomed to respect all the decorums of society, to connect inseparably the ideas of personal comfort with public esteem, of generosity with credit, of order with respectability. They have a keen sense of dishonor, and are careful to avoid everything that may bring the shadow of discredit on their name. Public opinion is the breath by which they live, the standard by which they act; of course they would not lower by gross misconduct that standard on which their happiness depends. They have been taught to respect themselves; this they can do with more security, while they can retain on this half-way principle the respect of others. THE LORD'S PRAYER—ITS BREVITY.
By H. A. N.
“OUR Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.” How short! Only eight lines. It can be distinctly and deliberately pronounced in less than a minute. How forcibly does this teach us that the worth of prayers is not measured by their length. How seldom does any one in a prayer-meeting offer so short a prayer as this. Would not such short prayers often be better? It is a heathenish notion that God will hear us for our much speaking. Yet do not Christians sometimes study to prolong a prayer instead of simply speaking what is in their hearts, and then just as simply stopping? Yet, though the length of a prayer is not a recommendation of it, so neither is it always a fault. A long prayer may be acceptable to God, and a short prayer may be an abomination. The prayer of the Pharisee was short, though longer than the Publican’s. It was not its length that condemned it. We are told that our Lord on one extraordinary occasion “continued all night in prayer.” A prayer may be short for two reasons: it may be because he who prays is simple hearted, and will not pray more than he feels, and it may be because he is in haste to be about his worldly business or amusements, or does not like to tarry long alone with God. A prayer may also be long for two reasons: either because he who offers it makes a merit of long prayers, or because his heart is so full that it cannot quickly unburden itself. Let not one who goes thus to his closet fear to stay there until he has told all that is in his heart in the indulgent ear of his Father in heaven—until he has spread out the whole detail of his cares, his sins and his wants under the eye of him “who seeth in secret.” There is nothing in the words or in the example of our Lord which forbids you staying alone before the throne of grace just as long as, in the simplicity of your heart, you feel disposed to stop there. But the laborious effort to prolong even secret prayer is to be avoided. The time which you spend in the closet should not all be spent in prayer. Besides reading the Bible, some time should be spent in meditating on its truths; and effort is needed to learn to meditate—to learn to fix and hold the mind in contemplation of God and of his word. Probably we all can be helped in this by reading, besides the Bible, some book of devout meditation, such as Baxter, and Bogatsky, and Jay, and Chalmers, and Hannah More, and many other devout men and women have furnished us. Especially is it well to make specific preparation for the act of prayer, by turning the thoughts directly upon him to whom we are to pray, reminding ourselves of his greatness and majesty, and of our own vileness, and seeking to gain a vivid and solemn impression of his actual presence with us. It is well also to call to mind the specific sins which we have to confess, the particular mercies for which we should thank him, and the new favors that we need to ask. We should not talk at random when we “take it upon us to speak unto Jehovah.” If the result of such reflection be to make your words few, and full of solid and solemn, earnest meaning; if thus your prayer be made short as our Lord’s, or as the publican’s, fear not; if it be humble and sincere it is accepted.—H. A. N. Am. messenger.