Jesus! the sinner's Friend, We cannot speak Thy praise! But when before the throne, Clothed in our blood-bought robes of white, Jesus! we'll give Thee then And cast ten thousand golden crowns, M ANY years ago I saw a strange list. It was an exact catalogue of the crimes committed by a man who was at last executed in Norfolk Island, with the various punishments he had received for his different offences. It was written out in a small hand by the chaplain, and was nearly three yards long. Had I not known from the friend who showed it me that it was true in each particular, I could scarcely have imagined it possible that so much evil could have been crowded into a single lifetime. But the sight of the strange document gave rise to other thoughts. It occurred to me that it might well remind us of the long catalogue of our transgressions against God. Were they written out as seen by His allseeing eye, who can tell how great the number would be? Would not such a catalogue be long enough to reach almost from earth to heaven? Let us judge ourselves in the light of God's holy law. That law demands supreme love to God, and unselfish love to our neighbour. It forbids every sin in thought, word, or deed. It takes account of the motives which prompt our actions. It charges against us our omissions of duty, as well as acts of positive misdoing. It tells us that he who knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin. Judged by a law so strict and holy as this, who can count the sins with which we are justly chargeable in the sight of God? Think of those positive violations of duty on account of which the conscience will at times speak out plainly. Think of sins of the tongue, wilful falsehood, evil-speaking, sharp and bitter and angry words are there not many of these which we have cause to lament? Think of the swarms of unhallowed thoughts, murmuring thoughts, envious thoughts, selfish thoughts, impure and unchaste thoughts, which have been permitted to lodge within the heart. Think how many actions have appeared to others deserving of praise, but which have been tainted by some unworthy motive. Think of our failures in our relative duties, and how much better we might have fulfilled the claims which an employer, a wife or a husband, a child or a parent, has upon us. Think, above all, of our continued ingratitude toward Him in whom we live and move and have our being, and who gave His well-beloved Son to die for our salvation. Have we not forgotten Him days without number? Have we not slighted His merciful invitations, and grieved and provoked Him by our indifference and our rebellion ? Add all these together, and infinitely more than any words can express, and who shall tell the vastness of the debt we owe? Well may we cry, with Ezra, 'O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to Thee, my God for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our trespass is grown up unto the heavens.' What is the debt toward God which by our sins we have contracted ? Our Saviour illustrates it by the case of a man owing 'ten thousand talents,' or in our money nearly two millions of pounds. Imagine anyone owing this, and having not a farthing with which to liquidate it—what hope could he have of paying off such a debt, however patient his creditors might be? And let us bear in mind that if God deals with us on the terms of His law, every farthing must be paid, or we are undone for ever! The wages of sin is death.' What shall we do? Whither shall we turn for hope? Where can we find deliverance from so great a burden of guilt? Our Saviour tells of two debtors, each of whom had a debt, but that of one was tenfold that of the other. But the creditor was merciful. In both cases he remitted the whole debt. 'When they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both.' Here is free, unmerited grace and favour. The whole debt is blotted out at once and for ever, and the debtor may go on his way |