Chapter 9: The Inquiring Sinner Directed to the Cross
It is no uncommon occurrence for people of every age, and every rank, in human society, to look at the subject of religion with interest and solicitude. This always has been the case, to a greater or less degree, where the cross of Christ is faithfully preached, and accompanied by the power of the Holy Spirit. Wherever the spirit of inquiry on this subject exists, it implies that the inquirer is sensible of his lost condition, and is seeking the way of life. He is no longer thoughtless and unconcerned; he has done trifling with God and making light of sin, and is now awake, alive, and in earnest for the salvation of his soul. His iniquities are gone up over his head; he has the evidence within himself that "God is angry with the wicked every day," and he is ready to cry out with one of old, "While I suffer your terrors I am distracted." It is no feigned distress which he expresses; "The arrows of the Almighty are within him, the poison whereof drinks up his spirit." Although he feels the burden of his sins, and is conscious of his obligations to turn from them unto God; yet, because he is not a converted man, he would, notwithstanding, sincerely break these bands asunder, and cast away these cords from him. There is no class of men more restive under a sense of moral obligation, than those who are convinced of sin, and, at the same time, are reluctant to forsake it—or, in other words, than those who are sensible of their lost condition as sinners, and who will not come unto Christ that they might have life. Nothing deprives them of the favor of God but their own voluntary and obstinate unbelief; and this, though they are conscious it can no longer be defended, they do not cease to cherish. This is the great subject of controversy between them and their Maker. God claims their return to him through Jesus Christ; they no longer question either the equity, or the graciousness of the claim, and yet they resist it, and resist it with all their hearts. God has decided that their unhumbled spirit shall bow to the cross of his Son, or that they shall perish. They know that they can never change his purpose; yet they will not bow. They are more and more sensible that "it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God;" yet they will not cast themselves into the arms of his boundless, though sovereign mercy. They endeavor to stifle these convictions, but the hand of One stronger than the strong man armed is upon them, and they cannot escape the convictions which they thus endeavor to suppress. God holds them to the alternative of believing in Jesus Christ, or sinking to perdition; and he holds their minds awake to this, their solemn position. This is the source of their distress, and in a mind under deep and strong conviction it is deep anxiety. "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?" To be sensible that they are in the hands of God, and yet to be unwilling to be in his hands—to be unwilling to be in his hands, and yet see that it is impossible to break away from his government—to murmur and complain at the terms of salvation, and at the same time to be convinced that there is no ground for complaint and murmuring—is a state of mind like the tempestuous ocean, when its waters "cast up mire and dirt."
It is not unnatural that one in such a state should be moved to effort. Availing or unavailing, he is moved to effort; nor is it possible that he should be at rest, under this load of conscious guilt. Conscience cannot resist the impression that there is some duty to be performed, in the neglect of which he must take up his abode with all the incorrigible enemies of God, and lie down in sorrow. He seeks some competent relief, and inquires if there be any hope for such a sinner as he. His language is intelligible and definite—"What must I do to be saved?" He wishes to know if there be any path in which he may walk, that will lead to eternal life.
Men are not often placed in circumstances of more weighty responsibility, than when called to give directions to those who are thus earnestly seeking the salvation of their souls. I need not say, that they are strongly tempted, at such seasons, to comfort those who are dead in sin. But a little reflection will convince us that no direction should be given to the inquiring sinner, that affords the least relief to his conscience in the continued rejection of Jesus Christ. If he be ignorant, he should be instructed; but when once the method of salvation is clearly set before him, he must not be comforted in the neglect of it. It is a mistaken view of the cross that it speaks peace to the convinced, but unbelieving sinner. We ought not to wish to speak peace to him, but, while we affectionately set before him the fullness and all-sufficiency of Christ, and his unutterable tenderness and love, to render his condition more distressing, so long as he stays away from Christ. The history of experimental religion, in all ages, shows nothing more clearly, than that to tell convinced sinners the whole truth of God, is the most powerful means of their conversion. It is an unspeakable pleasure to be able to say to men who are wearying themselves to find their way to heaven, and who, like the Pharisees of old, fast and pray, and are going about to establish a righteousness of their own, while they refuse to subject themselves to the righteousness of God—There is a "righteousness which is of faith," and "not by the deeds of the law." You are only making lies your refuge, and cleaving to that which God abhors, until, as prisoners of hope, you flee to this stronghold. Yet, strange to say, the question has been gravely debated, Whether this be the true and only course to be adopted with those who are thus anxious for their salvation? Let us for a moment look at this practical and important question, and while we consider it, let us take our position as near as we can to the cross of Christ, and hear what he says to
men in this anxious state of mind.
I am a preacher of Jesus Christ and him crucified, and one of my charge comes to me with the question, "What must I do to be saved?" You are a parent, and your anxious child comes to you with this affecting inquiry. You are a teacher in the sabbath school, and that Spirit who so often impresses the minds of the young, has visited your interesting charge, and they flock in numbers to you to inquire, "What must I do to be saved?" Now what is the answer which the cross of Christ gives to this inquiry? We know the answer which paganism would give—it would point the inquirer to the Ganges, or the car of Juggernaut, and tell him, That is the way to heaven. We know the answer which Rome would give—it would tell him to repeat his prayers to the virgin, to bow before the image of some canonized saint, to go to mass, and make liberal benefactions to the church. But what is the answer which the cross gives to his inquiry? It will be said, perhaps, that as the guardian of sound morality, the cross instructs such a man to reform his life, and break off his habits of outward sin. If he has been vicious, he must become moral and virtuous; if he has been profane, he must become devout; if he has been careless, he must become earnest and serious. But the fact is, he himself is in advance of all such counsel, and has long been in the rigid practice of every moral virtue. But this does not satisfy him. It does not quiet his fears, nor silence the thunders of Divine vengeance, nor relieve him of his burden, nor fill his heart with peace. His morality is rotten at the core; and if it were ever so pure, could not relieve a conscience truly awake to a sense of sin. Following such counsel, the Ethiopian might seem to have changed his skin, and the leopard his spots; but the change would not be deep and thorough, and the subject of it would turn from his evil courses only from a slavish fear of God’s displeasure.
It may, perhaps, be said, that the cross urges upon him a more rigid religious character, and tells him, if he has not been baptized, to present himself for the ordinance of baptism; if he has cast off fear and restrained prayer, to devote himself to the duties of the closet; if he has neglected the Scriptures and the house of God, to be more punctual in his observance of the duties of the Lord’s day, and more familiar with the Scriptures; if he has mingled with the gay world, to withdraw himself from its unhallowed dissipations and joys; if he has neglected the table of the Lord, to commemorate the sacrifice of his Divine Master at the holy supper. It is true that the cross urges upon him all these duties; but does it assure such a man, that, in these outward services, he will find peace? We may be assured the cross does not thus deny itself. There is not a little of this sort of religion in the world, flowing from the impression that it atones for past transgressions, and merits heaven, because it is too good to be sent to hell. But without faith in the Savior, all this is destitute of every element of holiness, and partakes of the character of the unsubdued and unregenerated heart. These duties constitute the form of godliness; they have their place and importance, and may well have praise of men. But those who never go beyond these things, will be disappointed when they enter into eternity. The admonition of the crucified one is, "Verily, I say unto you, Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, you shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven." The anxious sinner is apt to be beguiled by such mistaken and faithless counsels, and instead of fleeing to the stronghold, while a prisoner of hope, to betake himself to these refuges of lies. But just as certainly as he rests in these mere outward observances, he stops short of the cross, and his "hope is as the spider’s web."
What then is the language of the cross to the convinced and distressed sinner? Let us turn to the Bible and see. When the anxious and distressed jailer of Philippi inquired of Paul and Silas, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" they gave him this short and plain answer—"Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you, shall be saved." When the Savior addressed men in this state of mind, his language was, "Come unto me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." When the Jews said unto him, "What shall w (excellent) do that we might work the works of God?" Jesus answered and said unto them, "This is the work of God, that you believe on Him whom he has sent." Paul instructs the church of Rome, that "the righteousness of God, without the law, is manifested,…even the righteousness of God which is by faith in Jesus Christ, unto all and upon all those who believe." To the same people he writes—"The righteousness which is of faith speaks on this wise, Say not in your heart, Who shall ascend into heaven? (that is to bring Christ down from above:) or, Who shall descend into the deep? (that is to bring up Christ again from the dead.) But what says it? The word is near you, even in your mouth, and in your heart; that is, the word of faith which we preach; that if you shall confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead, you shall be saved." There is the most perfect simplicity in these instructions, because they disclose the method of salvation by the cross. The gospel is no complex and dark system; nor is it wrapped up in so much mysticism, that the anxious inquirer need doubt as to the great duty which it requires. It is not a system of outward observances, nor anything in which a self-righteous spirit may boast. It is simply a spiritual faith in Jesus Christ, in distinction from everything else, and in opposition to that righteousness which is by the deeds of the law. There is but this one way, by which the burdened sinner can find relief, and be restored to the favor of God. It is by faith in Jesus Christ.
It is not necessary to speak now of the nature of saving faith, after what has been said in a previous chapter. It is not the faith of devils, who believe and tremble. It is not the faith of the imagination, whereby men sometimes work themselves up to the persuasion that they belong to God’s chosen ones, and that is cherished by dreams and visions, and every sort of extravagance and enthusiasm. It is the sober, intelligent, hearty, "receiving and resting upon Jesus Christ alone, for salvation, as he is offered in the gospel." It is to love Jesus Christ, and trust in him. And this is what the cross tells the inquiring sinner to do. This is the answer which it gives to this great question. It is as though he who hung upon it said to the inquirer, "I must have your cheerful consent to the method of salvation which I have accomplished. I require the entire surrender of your immortal spirit, polluted and condemned as it is, into my hands, for all that it needs. No longer go about to establish a righteousness of your own by the deeds of the law; but rather feel that you have no righteousness, and receive my salvation, as it is testified to a dying world. This do, and you shall live. You shall have an interest in that great atonement which was made for all your sins; you shall be delivered from the curse of the law by that blood, which not only answers every charge, and covers every sin, but effectually pleads on the behalf of those who from the heart renounce all other helpers, and confide in me as their Savior!"
Such is the counsel of the cross to the inquiring sinner. He has, therefore, something to do in order to be saved; and that is to believe in Jesus Christ. And until he does this, he does nothing that has the least influence in changing his relations to the penalty of the Divine law. No matter what regard he professes to have for God, and for religious services; they are all polluted and avail nothing, until he believes on Him whom he has sent. If he profess a readiness to do the will of God, here is a plain command that tests his readiness; and if he be unwilling to obey him in this great particular, this turning point of his salvation, he is unwilling to obey him in anything. Very little is to be thought of that man’s willingness to do his duty, and to do right, who demurs and excuses himself from going, as a lost sinner, to Jesus Christ for salvation. Christ comes with God’s authority, with God’s Spirit, with all the attestations that heaven and earth can give; and he comes full of truth and grace, with the glory of God beaming in his life and in his death; and the first thing the anxious sinner has to do is to give him his confidence. Here he begins his obedience, and here begins his hope. He is anxious for the salvation of his soul, and professes to be willing to subject himself to any sacrifices—to pray, to read, to attend upon all the opportunities of religious instruction; but in this one thing he hesitates, he defers, perhaps he complains. He cannot cast himself down before the cross, and place confidence in the atoning blood shed on Calvary. He thinks to make himself better, and to become more worthy of God’s approbation, before he comes to Christ; whereas, he is only becoming worse, and the more worthy of God’s everlasting displeasure, the longer he stays away.
Let me not be misunderstood, when I say that the convinced sinner has something to do before he can find acceptance with God. As a work of the law, he has nothing to do; and as a personal righteousness of his own, that shall commend him to God, he has nothing to do. But he has to obey this comprehensive precept, Believe in the Son of God. This surely is something. It is not, indeed, an outward observance; it is an act of the heart, and the only act by which the alienated heart returns to God, and in that only way which God has appointed. Faith in Christ, though not a legal righteousness, is something that comes in the place of a legal righteousness, and justifies by virtue of that righteousness which it receives, and which is its object. Nor is it less the act and exercise of the sinner because "it is the gift of God." All right and holy acts of the heart are the gift of God; but they are not less duties and acts on that account. Faith is an act to which the sinner is moved and influenced by the Holy Spirit; but it is not, for this reason, less an act, or less a reasonable service. It is he himself who believes, though God enables him to believe. His faith is his own, though God gives it. The language of the cross to the inquiring sinner, therefore, is, "Repent you, and believe the gospel." It calls upon him to trust in this Mighty Savior; to believe that he is just, while he justifies; to be satisfied that he is able to save to the uttermost, all that come unto God by Jesus Christ; and, in the strength and preciousness of this persuasion, to commit his guilty soul to him, to be presented faultless before the throne. What else shall he do? where else shall he go? to whom else shall he look? He looks within himself, and finds no helper; he looks abroad upon his fellow creatures, and miserable comforters are they all. It costs him many a painful struggle, and many a conflict with flesh and blood, and many an abandoned pretension to self-righteousness, to feel and confess his inability to save himself, to be conscious that he has no claims, and, letting go every other hold, to throw himself upon the Author and Finisher of his salvation. But this he must do; and not until he does this, does he give God the throne, and take his own proper place in the dust.
It is to this lowly and confiding spirit, therefore, that the gospel directs the man who inquires, "What must I do to be saved?" It would sincerely attract him to the footstool of mercy, and draw him by its cords of love to Him who was "lifted up from the earth." The cross has no counsels to give him that may be safer, or more easily followed; it has no other counsels at all. And with this language of the cross, the whole scope and spirit of the Bible concur, uniformly and everywhere urging, if not the particular act of believing, the spirit that is necessarily expressive of the faith of the gospel. "Repent you—for the kingdom of heaven is at hand;"—"Repent you, and believe the gospel;"—"He that believes and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believes not shall be damned;"—"Repent and be baptized every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins;"—"Repent you therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out;"—"Testifying both to the Jews, and also to the Greeks, repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ." Such is the uniform language of the Bible. The sacred writers never call on men to try to believe in Christ, but to believe in him. They never counsel them to resolve to believe, but to believe. No matter to whom they address themselves, whether to the learned or the unlearned, or to men in pagan or Jewish lands, their great aim, and that without ambiguity, is to urge the duty, and that without delay, of confiding in the efficacy of the cross. And who does not see that such counsels are every way reasonable, and commend themselves to the conscience of the anxious inquirer?
Faith in the cross is right in itself, and the duty which every man ought to perform who is acquainted with the method of salvation which it reveals. Let the method of redemption by the cross of Christ be intelligibly exhibited to the mind of a pagan; let the nature of faith be properly defined, and clearly described; and his conscience will feel the obligation of believing, and of falling in with that redemption. No one feels more deeply that he is without excuse for not believing, than the awakened and convinced sinner. He knows that it is right for him to perform this great duty. To tell him so—to tell him so solemnly and affectionately, and to give him no relief from performing it, and no peace and comfort until it is performed, makes him feel just as the Spirit of God makes him feel. The work in which the Spirit of God is engaged with him, is to produce and sustain the impression in his mind, that his first duty is to believe in Jesus, and to tell him anything else, is to oppose the merciful operations of the Holy Spirit upon his mind. There is nothing in the world, which is half so reasonable for the anxious sinner to do, as to dismiss his mad idolatry of self, and come and sit at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. You may direct him to something else besides the cross, but in doing so, you only prolong and implicitly justify his unbelief. You take part with him against the imperative claims of his Savior; and if he lose his conviction, his blood may be required at your hands. Let it not be forgotten, that such a man is all the while growing worse or better. That he is not growing better, is apparent from the fact that he stays away from Christ. His external conduct may be better, but his heart is constantly growing worse; and if you direct him to anything short of Christ, what do you implicitly do, but tell him he need not now go to him? You do not mean to tell him this; but is not this the tendency and impression of your directions, and are they not at variance with the claims of the cross? The effect upon his mind is the same as though you had relieved him from the present obligation of believing the gospel, and had more than intimated that it is a duty which God does not require that he should perform. You make him feel as though he were doing very well in rejecting the testimony which God has given concerning his Son.
More than this—when the cross directs the anxious sinner to believe in the Lord Jesus, it meets the exigencies of his awakened mind. It is a "word in season to him that is weary." It satisfies his understanding; it satisfies his conscience; it leaves him without excuse; it allures him to the mercy-seat, there to smite upon his breast, and say, "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" He is oppressed with the weight of his sins, and asks you what he shall do. Does not the affecting inquiry deserve a satisfactory reply? You hesitate to say to him, that his first business, and paramount duty, and the only safe course for him in time and eternity, is, to repent and believe the gospel; and, therefore, you tell him to seek and to strive, and to do as well as he can, without believing. Just as well might the man who was bitten by the fiery serpents in the wilderness, have looked down upon his wounds, and endeavored to find healing by plastering his mortal sores, without looking to the brazen serpent which Moses lifted up. If the sinner’s conscience be fully awake, this will not satisfy him. He has done all this, and persevered in it to weariness, and still finds no comfort, but is "dead in trespasses and sins." He does not ask you what he shall do to become acquainted with his responsibility, or what he shall do to cherish his convictions. He wants to know what he shall do to be saved. People in the last stages of conviction are more than ever, and more than all others, convinced of the entire sinfulness of all their religious performances, and their utter inefficiency to give them peace of mind. They feel that in all the means of grace they are using, they make no approximation to the salvation they need; and it has become a very grave question with them, whether they are not the more guilty by all the light they enjoy, and whether their convictions themselves will not prove a savor of death unto death. There is wisdom and appropriateness, therefore, in the instructions of the cross. You may tell such a man that his fears are groundless, but he does not believe you. You may tell him to read the Scriptures and to pray often. But he replies, "I have done so—for weeks and months I have done so; but God is a wilderness to me, and all his ordinances are a desert where no water is. I find no relief in them all, but am still a guilty, miserable sinner; my cup is full, and nothing but forbearing mercy keeps me from the pit."
Now the cross enters into the feelings of such a man, and meets the exigencies of his condition. There, amid convulsions that shook the earth, and darkness that put out the sun, on that cross the prayer was uttered, "Father forgive them; for they know not what they do!" It foresaw the gall of bitterness which the anxious would drink, and the bonds of iniquity under which the convinced would groan; and He who hung upon it drank that bitter cup, and felt those galling chains. It was planted in the way where wicked men were traveling, only to make their bed in hell, and on purpose to stop them in their mad career. Under the false glare of ill-advised counsels and a self-righteous heart, the anxious sinner has missed it, and gone beyond this city of refuge. Mercy calls to him to turn before he is overtaken by the avenger of blood. It admonishes him that he is going away from the only hiding-place, and that he may not lose an hour before he comes back to be reconciled to the Avenger through atoning blood. The cross itself, with its free and full salvation, not more meets his exigencies as a perishing sinner, than the claims of the cross on his submission, his love, his confidence, meet the exigencies of his present state of mind. They urge upon him to repent and believe the gospel, and he feels the urgency of the claim. They plead with him, "Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation;" now, while the Spirit strives, while conscience is sensitive, and "all things are ready;" and he feels the pressure of their demands, and lays his hand upon his mouth. They speak no peace to him so long as he stays away from Christ; but all peace, all hope, all light, and comfort, and joy in believing. Nothing meets the exigencies of such a state of mind, but the simple, unabated, unrelaxed direction of the cross, to believe on Him who was crucified. This meets it, and no sooner does it receive a fitting response from the sinner’s heart than he begins his everlasting song.
It is not, on the one hand, the design of the cross to bring down the method of salvation to the level of the sinner’s corrupt inclinations; nor, on the other, to magnify the difficulties in the way of his being saved. It is no system of penances and pilgrimages, of ablutions and immolations; nor, which is just as difficult, is it a system of self-righteousness. It is a system of faith, requiring simply that the sinner should abandon every other refuge, and hope, and effort, and, from the heart, receive the testimony, that "God has given us eternal life," and that "this life is in his Son." It makes the way of salvation plain. It does not trifle with the sins and miseries of men, by directing them to an unintelligible method of mercy. Men may view this method of mercy through a perverted medium; they may obscure it by their unbelief; they may throw obstacles in the path, even by their own honest efforts to make themselves fit to become its objects; but they are obstacles of their own creating. Multitudes become discouraged in seeking eternal life, and finally perish, by supposing it a more difficult thing to be saved than it actually is. With a certain class of minds, this is one of the great artifices of the subtle adversary. God gives with freeness; he gives with strange liberality; he loves to give eternal life to all who accept his Son. "Hearken unto me," says he, "you stouthearted, that are far from righteousness; I bring near my righteousness; it shall not be far off, and my salvation shall not tarry!" And salvation is brought near. Here at the foot of Calvary, and by all the love and mercy of the cross, the God of heaven entreats you to "look and live." He does not require you to become your own Savior, but rather to cease from this vain and disheartening effort, and be saved by him who bled for your redemption.
That which renders the condition of the awakened and anxious so critical a condition, is, that they reject a salvation which is clearly revealed to their own minds. "To him that knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin." Those who see and understand the way of salvation by Christ, have no excuse for rejecting it—no, not for an hour. The difficulty of accepting it is not diminished by delay. If there were any course of prerequisite labor that would render the duty of accepting it more easy, more certain, or more safe, there would be some semblance of reason for delay. But it is both easier and safer to accept it the first moment it is understood, than it ever will be afterwards. There is more reason, more conscience, more peace of mind, more of God and heaven in accepting, than in rejecting it. So far from anything being gained by delay, the difficulties in the way of believing always gain strength and obduracy by procrastination. The cross urges on men of every age, every character, every condition, immediate "repentance toward God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." His language to them is, Fallen, as you are by your iniquity, the Son of man came "to seek and to save that which was lost." The voice of this Son of man to them is, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." When will the anxious inquirer open his heart to this condescending and heavenly guest? When will he enjoy this rich, this blood-bought banquet? When, if not now? When will he turn his back upon the wilderness, where he is perishing with hunger, and go to his Father’s house, where there is bread enough and to spare, if not now? When, if not now, will he look on him whom he has pierced, and mourn, and go, with a broken, bleeding heart, to the cross? I am warranted in bringing this inquiry distinctly before the mind of every awakened sinner who reads these pages; and I ask him, if he is unprepared for this reasonable duty now—a duty which God the Spirit is now urging on his conscience with so much tenderness and solemnity, that the only alternative is life or death—when will he perform it? When? If he hesitate, the reason for this hesitation, and the only reason, is, that if he be not willing to perform it now, he is not now willing to perform it at all. The cross addresses such a man with great and peculiar directness. He sees that he is lost—lost to himself, lost to God, lost to heaven, irrecoverably and eternally lost, if he remain an unbeliever in Jesus. And the language of the cross to him is full of tenderness. He who there hung and expired, "the just for the unjust," that he might bring him unto God, says to the agitated and trembling, the distressed and desponding inquirer, "It was for you I died; I bore you on this heart of love, when I gave up the spirit!" Oh, then, you fearful, go and cast this burden at the foot of his cross. Be no longer faithless, but believing. This do, and you shall live. The God of grace, for his name’s sake, shall blot out your iniquities as a cloud, and your transgressions as a thick cloud. The God of faithfulness shall carry on the work he has begun, and perfect it to the day of his coming. He shall guide you by his counsel, and keep you as the apple of his eye. He shall go with you up to the chamber of death, and when flesh and heart fail, shall be the strength of your heart and your portion forever. In that hour of darkness and conflict, he will still direct your fading eye to his cross, where the darkness, the sorrow, and the defeat were his, that the light, the joy, and the victory might be yours. And when you look down into the grave, it shall no longer be with sadness, but with the confidence that your flesh shall rest in hope, and that He will raise you incorruptible and immortal.
And now, if in the unbelief of your own minds, you still press the question, "What must I do to be saved?" I have no other answer to give, than "Believe on the Lord Jesus." I frankly confess I know no other, nor do I wish to know. The cross knows no other. He whose love and mercy are literally infinite has no greater love and mercy than this. There is "none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved," but the name of Jesus Christ. There are other names, but they have no influence in the court of heaven. There are other ways, but they conduct to the chambers of death. Perish you must, and ought, if you come not to him. O Savior! you who alone are the refuge of the guilty, to whom shall we go but unto you? "You have the word of eternal life, and we know, and are sure, that you are that Christ, the Son of the living God!"
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