“The Trial of the Witnesses.
“The enemies of Christ, after His death, applied for a military guard to watch at His tomb, and this application for a military guard was rested on the fact, that the ‘impostor’ had said, in His lifetime, that He would rise again on the third day. Without a doubt, had they found His body in the grave, when the time had transpired, they would have torn it from the sepulchre, exhibited it through the streets of Jerusalem, where Jesus had preached, where He had been despitefully used, and scourged; they would have shouted forth with triumph, ‘This is the body of the impostor!’ But He had left the grave, that morning, too early for them. The soldiers came back to the city, and they went to the leaders of the people who had employed them, and the leaders exclaimed, ‘Here is the watch! What is the matter? What is that dread settled in their faces? Come in here, and we charge you to tell the truth.’ ‘You have no need to charge us, for the fright, the terror of it, is still upon us.’ ‘How? What has happened at the grave? Did His disciples come, and take Him away?’ ‘They! no; but if they had, our spears would have sufficed for them.’ ‘Well, but how was it? What has taken place?’ ‘Well, see; while we were on the watch, and early, in the dawn of the morning, a great earthquake, like to that one that took place on Friday afternoon, when He died, and we all fell powerless to the ground; and we saw angels, bright, like the lightning; we were not able to bear the sight; we looked down at once; we endeavoured, again, to raise our eyes, and we beheld One coming out of the grave, but He passed by the first angel we saw, who now was sitting on the removed stone; but He who came out of the grave! we never saw one like unto Him before,—truly He was like unto the Son of God.’ ‘What, then, became of the angel?’ ‘Oh, a legion of them came down, and one of them, very fair, like a young man, entered the grave, and sat where the head of Jesus had lain; and, immediately, another, also, very fair, and beautiful, sat where His feet had rested.’ ‘And did the angels say nothing to you?’ ‘No, but they looked with eyes of lightning.’ ‘Saw you not His friends, the women?’ ‘Oh, yes; they came there, but He had left the tomb before their arrival.’ ‘Talked the angels to the women?’ ‘Yes; they seemed to be of one family, and very well acquainted with one another.’ ‘Do you remember anything of the conversation?’ ‘Yes; they said, “Fear you not! let the Pharisees, and Darkness fear to-day! You seek Jesus! He is not here, for He is risen indeed; He is alive, and lives for ever. He has gone before you to Galilee.” We heard one angel say, “Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” Another angel spoke to a woman called Mary, and said, “Why weepest thou, while thy Lord is risen indeed, and is alive, so near unto thee? let His enemies weep to-day!”’ ‘What!’ exclaimed the leader of those priests, and of the council, who had asked for the guard,—‘What! how say you? Close that door! You, tall soldier, approach: was it not you who pierced His side?’ ‘Yes, it was I; but all that these soldiers have said is all true; oh, alas! it is all true! He must have been the Son of God.’ The Pharisees lost their cause, on the day of their appeal; they gave the soldiers money, to say that His disciples had stolen the body while they slept! If they were asleep, how did they know in what manner He had left the grave? They, however, suffered themselves to be suborned, and for money lied, and, to this hour, the kingdom of Satan hangs upon that lie!”
This sermon produced a profound impression. We have said, to render the sermons of Christmas Evans in print, or by description, is impossible,—as impossible as to paint tones, and accents, or the varying expressions which pass over eye, and face, and lip. He was entreated to publish this sermon, but he could only write out something like an outline of it, and when it appeared in print, those who had been enraptured with it, in its delivery, declared that it was not the same sermon; so he was entreated to preach the sermon again. He made a humorous remark, on the strangeness of a man preaching his own printed sermon; still, he complied. His accomplished biographer, Rhys Stephen, heard it then, and says of it, “While I have the faintest trace of memory, as to sermons I have heard, this must always be pre-eminent, and distinct; in its oratorical eminence, it stands alone, even among his great achievements. One of the most striking parts of the sermon, was in the examination of the Roman guard, the report of the soldiers to the authorities.” Mr. Stephens continues, “We heard them talk, had a clear perception of the difference of the tone, and more especially, when one of the chief priests, in an anxious, agonizing whisper, said, ‘Shut the door!’ And then, ‘You, tall soldier, approach: was it not you who pierced His side?’ ‘Yes, it was I.’ When Christmas Evans simulated the chief priest, and singled out the tall soldier, and the conversation went on between the two, such a combined triumph of sanctified fancy, and perfect oratory, I never expect to witness again.” We may, also, say, that it illustrates wherein, very greatly, lay the preacher’s power,—seizing some little circumstance, and, by its homeliness, or aptness, giving reality, and vivacity to the whole picture.
It must be said, his are very great sermons; the present writer is almost disposed to be bold enough to describe them, as the grandest Gospel sermons of the last hundred years. Not one, or two, but several, are especially noble. One of these we have, already, given: the splendid embodiment, and personification of the twenty-second Psalm, The Hind of the Morning, from the singular, and most significant designation, or title of the Psalm itself.
Another sermon which, probably, belongs to this period is
“The Bible regarded as a Stone with Seven Eyes,”
evidently from Zech. iii. 9, “Upon one stone shall be seven eyes.”
It was, in fact, a review of
“The Internal Evidences which prove the Gospel to be of God.
“God’s perfections are, in some sort, to be seen in all He has done, and in all He has spoken. He imprints some indication of His character, on everything that His hand forms, and that His mouth utters, so that there might be a sufficient difference between the work, and the speech of God, and those of man. The Bible is the Book of books, a book breathed out of heaven. It was easy enough for John to determine, when he saw the Lamb, with the seven horns, and the seven eyes, in the midst of the throne, that the Godhead was there, and that such a Lamb was not to be found amongst creatures. When one saw a stone, with seven eyes, before Zerubbabel, it was not difficult to conclude that it was a stone from some unusual mine. In looking at the page of the starry sky, the work of the fingers of the Everlasting Power is traced in the sun, and moon, and stars; all proclaim His name, and tell His glory. I am very thankful for books written by man, but it is God’s book that sheds the light of the life everlasting on all other books. I cannot often read it, hear it, or reflect upon it, but I see—
“1. Eternity, like a great fiery Eye, looking at me from the everlasting, and the infinite distance, unfolding mysteries, and opening before me the doors, windows, and chambers, in the (otherwise) unknown, and awful state! This Eye leads me to the source, and cause of all things, and places me in the presence, and sight of the Almighty, who has in Him something that would destroy me for ever, and yet something that spares, and animates me; pressing me down, and at the same time, saying, ‘Fear not;’ something that melts me into penitence, and, at once, causes me to rejoice in the faith, inspiring me with the fear of joy; something that creates a wish in me, to conceal myself from Him, and then a stronger wish, to stay, for ever, in the light of His countenance.
“2. Omniscience looks at me, also, like a Divine Eye, out of every chapter, verse, doctrine, and ordinance of the Gospel, and searches me through and through. The attempt at concealment from it is utterly vain. To this Eye, darkness is as the light. It has descried, correctly, into the deepest abysses of my spirit; and it has truthfully drawn my likeness before I received God’s grace; having received it; and the future is, also, transparent before it. There is something in the scanning of this Eye, that obliges me to confess, against myself, my sins unto the Lord; and to cry out for a new heart, and a right spirit; for the Author of the Book knows all.
“3. When I yield to pensive reflections, under a sense of sin, and when I see the tops of dark mountains of disease, and trouble at the terrors of the grave, I see in the Bible Infinite Goodness, fairer than the Shekinah of old, looking at me, out of eternity; it is like the smile of the Eternal King, from His throne of mercy. Divine love, merits of Christ, riches of grace, they are all here, and they assure me, and I listen to the still, small voice, that follows in its train, until I feel myself lifted up, out of the cave of despair, by the dark mountain; and I stand on my feet, and I hope, and hear the proclamation of the great mystery—‘Behold, I come, as it is written in the roll of the Book. If I must die, I am willing to die; for I come to seek, and to save that which is lost.’
“4. Holiness, righteousness, and purity look at me, out of the midst of the Book, like the fires of Sinai to Israel, or the I AM, out of the burning bush; causing me to fear, and tremble, while I am yet desirous of looking at the radiant glory, because it is attempered with mercy. I take my shoes from off my feet, and approach on my knees, to see this great sight. I cannot live, in sin, in this presence,—still it does not slay me. The Eternal Power is here, and, with one hand, it conceals me, in the shadow of redeeming mercy, and, with the other, it points out the glory of the great, and wondrous truth, that God is, at once, a just God, and justifier of him that believeth in Jesus. Where Thy glory rests, O my God, there let me have my abode!
“5. I also see Infinite might radiating from the doctrine of the Book, like God’s own Eye, having the energy of a sharp, two-edged sword. Without asking permission of me, it proves itself ‘quick and powerful, and pierces even to the dividing asunder of the soul, and spirit, and of the joints, and marrow;’ it opens the private recesses of my heart, and becomes a discerner, and judge of its thoughts, and intents. When Lord Rochester, the great wit, and unbeliever of his day, read Isa. liii. 5, ‘He was wounded for our transgressions,’ etc., Divine energies entered his spirit, and did so thoroughly pierce, and pervade it, that his infidelity died within him, and he gladly received the faith, and hope that are in Christ. The power of the Gospel visited Matthew, at the receipt of custom, the woman at the well of Samaria, the malefactor on the cross, the converts on the day of Pentecost, Paul by the way, and the jailer at Philippi; in them all was exerted this resistless might of grace, the ‘Let there be’ of the original creation, which none can withstand.
“6. When I am weak, and distressed, and alone, and none to receive my tale of sorrow, none to express a word of fellow-feeling, or of care for me, in the living oracles of the Gospel I see Divine wisdom, and loving-kindness, looking at me tenderly, compassionately, through the openings of my prison, and I feel that He, who dresses the lily of the field, and numbers the sparrows, is near me, numbering the hairs of my head, listening to my cries; and in all the treasure of grace, and power, that was able to say to the lost one, at the very door of the pit, ‘To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise,’ fearing no hindrances that might intervene, between Golgotha and heaven, He is the same gracious Redeemer, and Preserver to every one, that believes in His name. Who will teach me the way of wisdom? who will guide me to her dwelling-place? It was in the Gospel that wisdom came to reside near me, and here she teaches the most untoward, convinces the most hard-hearted, reforms the most licentious, and makes the simple wise unto salvation.
“7. I am sometimes filled with questions of anxious import. Art thou from heaven, O Gospel? Thou hast caused me to hope: Art thou a rock? The reply: Dost thou not see, in my face, the true character of God, and of the Eternal Power Incarnate? Dost thou not discern, in Jesus, the image of the invisible God, which, unlike the first Adam, the second Adam has preserved untarnished? and dost thou not feel, in looking at it, thyself gradually changed into the same image, even as by the Spirit of the Lord? In looking at God’s image in the creature, the vision had no transforming power, but left ‘the wise men’ of the ancient world where it found them, destitute of true knowledge, and happiness, without hope, and without God in the world; but here the vision transforms into the glorious likeness of the sublime object, even Christ.
“The character of God, given in the Gospel, is complete, and perfect, worthy of the most blessed One, and there is no perfect portraiture given of Him but in the Gospel. Mohammed’s God is unchaste; Homer gave his Jupiter revenge; Voltaire deified mockery; Insurrection and War were the gods of Paine;—but the character of the God of the Gospel is awful in truth, and lovely in goodness. In Isa. vi., the vision of the Divine glory caused the six-winged cherubs to conceal their faces; but in Rev. iv., the six-winged living things employ five wings to fly, and only one to veil their faces, while they are full of eyes behind, and before, looking forth unveiled. All the worshippers under the Gospel, look with open face—without a veil, and on an unveiled object.”
We have here, evidently, only the rudiments of a sermon, but a very fine one, a very suggestive one. To most minds, the Bible has, probably, been, as Thomas Carlyle, or Jean Paul, would express it, “an eyeless socket, without the eye.” Christmas Evans was expressing, in this very suggestive sermon, the thoughts of some men whose words, and works he had probably never met with; as George Herbert says it—
“In ev’ry thing
Thy words do find me out.”
“Beyond any other book,” says Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “the Bible finds me;” while John Keble, in the “Christian Year,”—probably written about the same time, when Christmas Evans was preparing his sermon,—was employing the very same image in some of his most impressive words:—
“Eye of God’s Word! where’er we turn,
Ever upon us! thy keen gaze
Can all the depths of sin discern,
Unravel every bosom’s maze:“Who, that has felt thy glance of dread
Thrill through his heart’s remotest cells,
About his path, about his bed,
Can doubt what Spirit in thee dwells?”
In the following extract, we have a more sustained passage, very fresh, and noble:—