Let it be remembered that this sin was committed in private—his family knew nothing of it—his brother probably did not notice it at the time—there was no man of God at his elbow, to reprove him—no Bible at hand to condemn him—and yet he was never happy afterwards. What was it, then, which made him thus miserable, and always thus brought his sin to remembrance, but that same conscience, which so many deny, and always affect to despise? Though there was no recorder upon earth, there was one in heaven: God heard and marked his sin: he it was that roused conscience to its duty, and bid it wring the sinner’s heart; it did so, and the unhappy blasphemer could never afterwards forget the impious expression; it was ever present to his recollection, it followed him like a frightful spectre wherever he went, and peace was a stranger to his bosom.
This it was that clothed death with so much terror: he could not die as his fellows are used to die, in brutal ignorance and stupidity; he was alive to his situation, he saw his danger; he knew that punishment was deserved; conscience, ever pointing to the bar of God, told him to prepare for judgment—and though he knew but little of God’s word and his threatenings against sinners, he could not but fear the worst: it was this that shook his strong nerves, and bowed down his spirits for forty years. Oh! who can resist an enraged conscience? “A wounded spirit who can bear?”
Reader, pause for a moment. You possess a conscience, though perhaps it sleeps, but be assured it will not sleep for ever; it is immortal as the soul, it will surely awake, and that soon, either in time or eternity: convinced of sin you must be, either by the mercy of God in this world, to bring you to repentance; or by his vengeance in the next, “where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched!” O whenever it speaks, listen to it, it is a friendly voice: do not stifle it, for in stilling conscience we quench the last glimmerings of hope; we commit the last act of violence upon the soul, short of self-murder; and do, as it were, leap down upon the very shelvings of the pit, that mercy’s hand may never reach us.
Secondly. See here the bitterness of unpardoned sin.
God hath thus spoken by his prophet, (Jer. ii. 19.) “Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee: know therefore and see that it is an evil thing and bitter, that thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God, and that my fear is not in thee, saith the Lord God of hosts.” This language was fearfully made out in the case before us: for forty years this man had no rest in his mind; he had committed many sins before, which, like to many lying spirits, had deceived him; but this sin as soon as committed, he felt to lie upon his conscience unforgiven; and from that time forward all his sins, which he once turned as sweet morsels under his tongue, he found to be bitter as gall. His sufferings for so many years together, may be better conceived than described; wherever he went, whatever he did, he seemed to see the eye of God continually fixed and frowning on him. Oh! if the pressure of one unpardoned sin upon the conscience, be sufficient to fill the soul with anguish, and render a man wretched through life; what must be his sufferings in the world to come, where all his sins will be brought to remembrance, and made to prey upon his peace for ever!
Reader! You must sooner or later taste the bitterness of sin. O that it may be in time to bring you to repentance and salvation! But know, that if you die unpardoned, you must dwell with devouring flame, and lie down in everlasting burnings.
Thirdly. Notice signs of penitence.
His views of Christianity were indistinct and confused: this, however, was to be expected from his habits of life. Up to his eightieth year he had been a fugitive and wanderer upon earth, without the means of grace; and there is reason to think, without ever hearing a sermon in his life. And had he possessed a Bible, he could not have read it: nothing therefore but profound ignorance could be expected, but then, he exhibited signs of the deepest penitence, and we know who has said, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” (Pa. li. 17.) Nor was this contrition the mere effect of his dying circumstances; for some years previous he had been an altered man, and had frequently been seen by his family, engaged in prayer by himself under the hedges, and in other retired places. I have certainly no warrant for positively declaring that he is now happy; nor dare I say he is not; “to his own Master he standeth or falleth”—but when I heard of his death, I could not help, in the judgment of charity tracing he departed spirit to the throne of God.
Reader are you thus penitent? Have you felt and confessed your sins? Have you earnestly implored mercy through the atonement of Christ? Have you forsaken sin? For remember, he declared as a dying man, that he would not repeat his former practices, nor live as he had done for the universe. If indeed you have forsaken your unrighteous thoughts and ways, and turned to the Lord through faith in Jesus Christ, he will assuredly receive you, and abundantly pardon. But know, that if you still allow yourself to sin, and still find sin pleasant, your state is truly awful, you are as sure to die as he was, but not so likely to obtain mercy, for he was penitent but you are not, and “except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.” Luke xiii. 5.
Fourthly. We are herein reminded of the blessedness and value of the Bible, which reveals a Saviour and the hope of pardon.