The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit The Saints' Horror at
the Sinner's Hell The sermon delivered on Sunday
morning, August 16th, 1863 by the Reverend C.
H.
Spurgeon at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
Psalm 26, verse 9 Gather not my soul
with sinners We must all be gathered in
due course When time shall have ripened the
fruit It must hang no longer upon the
tree But be gathered into the basket When
the summer sun has perfectly matured the corn
The sickle must be brought forth And the
harvest must be reaped To everything there is
a season and an end There shall be
a gathering time for every one of us
It may come tomorrow It may be deferred
another handful of years It may come to
us by the long process of consumption or
decline It may advance with more rapid footsteps
And we may in a moment be gathered
to our people Sooner or later, to use
the expressive words of Job, The Almighty shall
set His heart upon each of us And
gather unto Himself our spirit and our breath
That gathering rests with God The prayer of
the psalmist implies it And many scriptures affirm
it As young sings in his night thoughts
An angel's arm can't hurl me to the
grave Accidents are but God's arrangements Diseases are
His decrees Fevers His servants and plagues His
messengers Our mortality is immortal till the Eternal
wills its death Return, ye children of men,
can be spoken by none but our Heavenly
Father And when He gives the word, return
we must without delay I do not know,
my brethren, seeing that our death is certain
And remains entirely in the hands of our
gracious God That there is any prayer which
we need to offer concerning it Except, Father,
into Thy hands I commit my spirit And
this brief sentence Gather not my soul with
sinners Scarcely can I commend those who plead
to be delivered from sudden death For sudden
death is sudden glory Hardly can I advise
you to request a hasty departure For flesh
and blood shrink from speedy dissolution Pray not
for long life nor for an early grave
Cheerfully leave all these matters to the choice
of infinite wisdom And concentrate all your desires
upon the one desire of the text Filled
with the holy horror of the hell of
sinners Let us make most sure our calling
to the heaven of the blessed Let the
fear of being cast forth with the withered
branches Increase our fruitfulness And let our horror
of the sinner's character in doom Lead us
to cleave more closely to the Saviour of
souls We will divide our discourse thus First,
the gathering And here let us behold a
vision Next, the prayer And here let us
note an example Thirdly, a fear And here
let us observe a holy anxiety And then
fourthly, an answer Yielding a consolation First, the
gathering Let the man who hath his eyes
open Behold the gathering of sinners And in
the sanctuary of the Lord let him understand
their end There have been many partial gatherings
of the ungodly All ending in sudden ruin
and overthrow Turn your eyes hither Two hundred
and fifty men have impudently taken censers into
their hands And have dishonored the Lord's chosen
servants, Moses and Aaron Mark well their proud
revilings of the Lord's anointed In the gain
saying of Korah, they have all a part
The people hasten from their tabernacles and they
stand alone It is but for a moment
See, the earth cleaveth us under They go
down alive into the pit And the earth
closes her mouth upon them My soul trembleth
and hideth her face for fear And my
fainting heart groaneth out her desire Gather not
my soul with sinners Look yonder, my brethren
To the city of palm trees surrounded by
its strong munitions All the inhabitants are gathered
together within it From the top of the
walls they mock the feeble band of silent
Israelites Who for six days have marched round
and round their city The seventh day has
come And the ram's horns give the signal
of destruction The Lord cometh forth from his
rest And at the tear of his rebuke
the walls of Jericho fall flat to the
ground Now, where are your boastings, O congregation
of the wicked?
The sword of Israel is bathed in your
blood, O accursed sons of Canaan As we
hear the shriek of the slaughtered And mark
the smoke of the city ascending up to
heaven like the flame of Sodom of old
We reverently bow the knee unto Jehovah and
cry Gather not my soul with sinners Leaping
over centuries, with weeping we behold the holy
city Beautiful for situation, once the joy of
the whole earth But now forsaken of her
God and beleaguered by her foes All the
Jewish people have come together from the four
winds of heaven As the flesh is cast
into the cauldron and the fire burneth fiercely
So are they gathered together for judgment Well
might their rejected Messiah weep over the devoted
city As he remembered how often he would
have gathered her children together As a hen
gathereth her chickens under her wings, and they
would not Now are they gathered in another
manner And the wings of eagles flutter over
them, hastening for the prey See yonder the
Roman armies and the mounds which they have
cast up Woe unto thee, O city of
Zion, for the spoilers know no pity They
spare neither young nor old Blessed are the
barren and the wombs that never bear And
the paps which never gave suck For the
day of the Lord's vengeance is come And
the words of Moses are fulfilled when he
said The Lord shall bring a nation against
thee from afar From the end of the
earth as swift as the eagle flyeth A
nation whose tongue thou shalt not understand A
nation of fierce countenance which shall not regard
The person of the old nor show favor
to the young And thou shalt eat the
fruit of thine own body The flesh of
thy sons and of thy daughters Which the
Lord thy God hath given thee in the
siege And in the straightness wherewith thine enemy
shall distress thee Hark!
the clarion summons the warrior to arms The
veterans of Vespasian and Titus dash to the
assault Where art thou now, O city, polluted
with the murder of prophets And stained with
the blood of the prophet's lord?
Thy walls protect not thy sons They keep
not the temple of thy glory See, a
soldier's ruthless hand hurls the red firebrand Into
the sacred precincts of the temple And its
smoke darkens the sky Can ye walk those
moldering ruins And behold the heaps of ashes
mingled with burning flesh The crimson streams of
gore and the deep pools of clotted blood?
Can ye linger there where desolation holds her
reign supreme And refuse to see the justice
of the God of Israel Or fail to
breathe the humble prayer of the psalmist Gather
not my soul within us Wherever the enemies
of God are gathered There we have our
long confusion and tears and death In whatever
place sinners may hold their counsels When the
judge of all the earth cometh out against
them We soon see in Alcadama a field
of blood Forgetting all these inferior gatherings Illustrious
in whore though they be My eye beholds
a greater gathering Which is proceeding every day
to its completion Every day the heavens and
the earth hear the voice of God saying
Gather ye, gather ye my foes together That
I may utterly destroy them Therefore wait ye
upon me, saith the Lord Until the day
that I rise up to the prey For
my determination is to gather the nations That
I may assemble the kingdoms To pour upon
them mine indignation Even all my fierce anger
For all the earth shall be devoured with
the fire of my jealousy As the huntsman
when he goes forth to the Batuu Encompasses
the beasts of the forest With an ever
narrowing ring of hunters That he may exterminate
them all in one great slaughter And so
the God of justice Has made a ring
in his providence round about The sinful sons
of men Within that circle of divine power
Are imprisoned monarchs and peasants, peers and paupers
That ring encompasses all nations Polite or barbarous,
civilized or rude No impenitent sinner can break
through the lines As well might a worm
escape from within a circle of flame Every
hour the lines grow narrower And the multitudes
of the Lord's enemies are driven into the
center Where his darts are flying Where his
sharp arrows shall pierce them I hear the
baying of the dogs of death today Hounding
the unbelieving to their doom I see the
heaps of slain and mark the terrible arrows
As they fly with unerring aim Multitudes of
sinners are scattered from the equator to the
poles But not one of them is able
to escape the avenger's hand High and haughty
princes Boasting their imperial pomp Fall like anthered
stags Smitten with the shafts of the Almighty
While their valiant warriors like wild boars of
the forest Perish upon the point of his
glittering spear The vision of the apocalypse is
no mere dream He whose name is the
word of God Shall tread the winepress of
the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God And
meanwhile the angel standing in the sun Crieth
with a loud voice to all the fowls
Which fly in the midst of heaven Come
and gather yourselves together under the supper of
the great God That you may eat the
flesh of kings And the flesh of captains
And the flesh of mighty men And the
flesh of horses And of them that sit
on them And the flesh of all men
Both free and born, both small and great
At the remembrance of all this We may
well exclaim with Habakkuk When I heard my
belly trembled My lips quivered at the voice
Rottenness entered into my bones And I trembled
in myself that I might rest in the
day of trouble When he cometh up unto
the people He will cut them in pieces
with his troops O thou God of all
grace, I pray thee By the atoning sacrifice
of Jesus in which I trust Gather not
my soul with sinners Let that providence which
gathereth thy people from among men Lay hold
on me Let thine angels who keep watch
and ward about thy people Keep me from
the snare of the fowler And from the
destruction which wasteth at noonday But the scene
changes We see no longer the assembling of
the multitudes In the great valley of the
shadow of death But we track them further
Till we find ourselves on the threshold of
the abode of spirits Ye have seen the
prisoners in their cells Waiting for their trial
at the next assize The strong hand of
the law has laid them endurance Where they
await the summons to appear before the judge
I pray you, note the company And before
the trumpet announces the judge See what a
strange gathering the prison house contains Do you
mark them?
There is the murderer with blood-red hand
There is he who smote his fellow to
his wounding Yonder lies the wretch who perjured
himself before God And here the man who
pilfered his neighbor's goods However they differed from
one another before They are on a level
in rank in this house of detention And
they all await one common gale delivery It
is no pleasant sight to visit these cells
before the assize comes on Crime, although as
yet uncondemned, is no comfortable vision But what
of earthly prisons?
My heart sees a sight far more terrible
Look down, my soul, on hell's domains That
world of agony and pains What crowds are
now associate there Of widely different character What
wretched ghosts are met below Some once so
great, so little now So gay, so sad,
so rich, so poor Now scorned by those
they scorned before Multitudes are gathered together in
this state Where souls abide until their final
doom Is pronounced both on their bodies and
on their souls A place of misery where
not a drop of water cools their parched
tongue A state of doubt and terror and
suspense A place from which consolation is banished
Where the wrath to come perpetually afflicts them
There in captivity abide the formalist The hypocrite,
the profane The licentious, the abandoned Those who
despised God and hated Christ And turned away
from the glory of His cross There they
are gathered, tens of thousands of them at
this day Waiting till the great assize shall
sit O God, gather not my soul with
sinners But let me be gathered with those
whose spirits wait beneath the altar For their
redemption to wit, the resurrection of their bodies
Gather me with those who cry day and
night Until God avenge His own elect Gather
me with the multitude of spirits Who wait
the coming of the Son of God from
heaven That their bliss may be complete But
now my eye, prophetic in the light of
Scripture Sees another gathering The trumpet has sounded
The prison doors are loosed And the gates
of death give way They come, bodies and
souls Souls from the place of waiting in
the pit of hell And bodies from their
graves from ocean and from earth From all
the four winds of heaven Bodies and souls
come together And there they stand, an exceeding
great army This time it is not in
the valley of suspense But multitudes, multitudes in
the valley of decision The Lord shall utter
His voice before His army For His camp
is very great For He is strong that
executeth His word For the day of the
Lord is great and very terrible And who
can abide it?
Assemble yourselves and come, all ye heathen And
gather yourselves together round about Thither cause thy
mighty ones to come down, O Lord Let
the heathen be wakened And come up to
the valley of Jehoshaphat For there will I
sit To judge all the heathen round about
Put ye in the sickle For the harvest
is ripe Come, get you down For the
press is full The fats overflow For their
wickedness is great And I saw a great
white throne And Him that sat on it
From whose face the earth and the heaven
fled away And there was found no place
for them And I saw the dead, small
and great, stand before God And the books
were opened And another book was opened, which
is the book of life And the dead
were judged out of those things Which were
written in the books according to their works
And the sea gave up the dead which
were in it And death and hell delivered
up the dead which were in them And
they were judged, every man, according to their
works And whosoever was not found written in
the book of life Was cast into the
lake of fire O, well may you and
I pray that we may have a part
in the first resurrection Upon such the second
death hath no power Grant us, O Lord,
that we may not be with the wicked
The rest of the dead who rise not
until after a thousand years are finished But
give thou us a portion among those whose
iniquities are blotted out Who have not received
the mark of the beast in their foreheads
Who therefore live and reign with Christ a
thousand years May we be gathered with the
harvest of the Lord When He that sits
on the cloud Shall reap it with His
golden sickle But this gathering of which my
text speaks Is not the harvest of the
righteous But the vintage of the wicked When
the angel which had power over fire shall
cry Thrust in thy sharp sickle And gather
the clusters of the vine of the earth
For her grapes are fully ripe How dreadful
that great winepress of divine wrath Which shall
be trodden without the city And how terrible
that flow of blood Like a mighty stream
of wine So deep that it ran even
under the horse's bridles By the space of
a thousand and six hundred furlongs Gather not
my soul with sinners, O God, in that
tremendous day I need not stop to paint
For colors equal to its tears I have
none That dreadful place where the last gathering
shall be held That great synagogue of Satan
The place appointed for unbelievers And prepared for
the devil and his angels Where sullen moans
and hollow groans And shrieks of tortured ghosts
Shall be their only music Where weeping, wailing,
and gnashing of teeth Shall be their perpetual
occupation Where joy is a stranger and hope
unknown Where death itself would be a friend
No, I will not attempt to describe What
our Savior veiled in words like these These
shall go away into everlasting punishment Where their
worm dieth not and their fire is not
quenched Outer darkness, where shall be wailing and
gnashing of teeth We drop the curtain Hoping
that you have seen enough to make you
pray Gather not my soul with sinners Dear
brethren When we recollect That that last gathering
will be a perfect one That there will
be no sinner left with the saints That,
on the other hand, no saint will remain
with sinners When we recollect that it will
be a final one No redistribution will ever
be made And that it will entail an
everlasting separation A great gulf being fixed Which
none can cross It remains for us to
be solemnly anxious To be found on the
right hand And to put up with vehemence
this prayer O Lord, gather not my soul
with sinners Having thus shown the vision of
the gathering Let me with deep solemnity Conduct
your minds for a little time To the
prayer itself I am sure we are all
agreed about it, every one of us Balaam,
if he be here this morning, differs not
from me The worst and most abandoned wretch
on earth agrees with David in this Sinners
do not wish to be gathered with sinners
Balaam's prayer is Let me die the death
of the righteous And let my last end
be like his Which only differs in words
from David's petition Gather not my soul with
sinners But then, the reasons of the one
prayer Are very different in different persons We
would all like to be saved from hell
But then, there is a difference in the
reasons why we would so be delivered The
same prayer may be uttered by different lips
In the one it may be heard and
accepted as spiritual prayer And in the other
it may be but the natural excitement produced
by a selfish desire to avoid misery Now
I know why you would not wish to
be gathered with sinners Those of you who
are ungodly and impenitent You dread the fire
The flames which no abatement know You dread
the wrath, the suffering You dread the horrors
of that world to come Not so with
the Christian These he dreads as all men
must But he has a higher and a
better reason for not wishing to be gathered
with sinners I tell you, sirs, if sinners
could be gathered into heaven with their present
character The Christian's prayer would be what it
now is Gather not my soul with sinners
If sin entails happiness If rebellion against God
could give bliss Even then the Christian would
scorn the happiness and avoid the bliss which
sin affords For his objection is not so
much to hell as to sinners themselves His
desire is to avoid the contamination and distraction
of their company Many of you will say
Now I dislike the company of sinners Indeed,
most moral people dislike the society of a
certain class of sinners I suppose there is
scarcely one here today who would wish to
be found in the den of the burglar
Where the conversation is concerning plunder and violence
You would not probably feel very easy in
the haunt of the harlot Where licentious tongues
utter flippantly lascivious words You shun the house
of the strange woman The pothouse is not
a favorite resort for you You would not
feel very much at ease at the bar
of the djinn palace You would say of
each of these, this is no joy to
me Even those of you who are not
renewed by Christ Despise vice when she walks
abroad naked I fear me ye cannot say
as much When she puts on her silver
slippers And wraps about her shoulders her scarlet
mantle Sin in rags is not popular Vice
in sores and squalor tempts no one In
the grosser shapes men hate the very fiend
whom they love When it is refined and
delicate in its form I want to know
whether you can say Gather not my soul
with sinners When you see the ungodly in
their high days and holidays Do you not
envy the fraudulent merchant counting his gold His
purse heavy with his gains While he himself
by his craft is beyond all challenge by
the law Do you not envy the giddy
revelers Spending the night in the merry dance
Laughing, making merry with wine And smiling with
the thoughts of lust Yonder of a luxury
entering the abode Where virtue never finds a
place And indulging in pleasures unworthy to be
named in this hallowed house Does he never
excite your envy I ask you, when you
see the pleasures The bright side, the honors,
the emoluments The gains, the merriments of sin
Do ye then say, gather not my soul
with sinners There is a class of sinners
That some would wish to be gathered with
Those easy souls who go on so swimmingly
They never have any trouble Conscience never pricks
them Business never goes wrong with them They
have no bands in their life, no bonds
in their death They are not in trouble
as other men Neither are they plagued like
other men They are like the green bay
tree which spreads on every side Until its
boughs cover whole acres with their shade These
are the men who prosper in the world
They increase in riches Can we say when
we look at these When we gaze upon
the bright side of the wicked Gather not
my soul with sinners Remember, if we cannot
do so without reservation We really cannot pray
the prayer at all We ought to alter
it and put it Gather not my soul
with openly reprobate sinners And then mark you
As there is only one place for all
sorts of sinners Moral or immoral Apparently holy
or profane Your prayer cannot be heard For
if you are gathered with sinners at all
With the best of sinners You must be
gathered with the worst of sinners too I
know, children of God Ye can offer the
prayer as it stands and say In all
their glory and their pomp In all their
wealth, their peace and their comfort My soul
abhors them And I earnestly beseech thee, O
Lord By the blood of Jesus Gather not
my soul with sinners Brethren Why does the
Christian pray this prayer?
He prays it, first of all Because as
far as his acquaintance goes with sinners Even
now he does not wish for their company
The company of sinners in this world to
the saint Is a cause of uneasiness We
cannot be with them and feel ourselves perfectly
at home My soul is among lions Even
among them that are set on fire of
hell Rid me from strange children We are
vexed with their conversation Even as Lot was
with the language of the men of Sodom
We lay an embargo upon them They cannot
act as they would in our society And
they lay a restraint upon us We cannot
act as we would when we are with
them We feel an hindrance in our holy
duties Through dwelling in the tents of Kedar
When we would talk of God we cannot
in the midst of company To whom the
very name of Jesus is a theme for
jest How can we well engage in family
devotions When more than half the family are
given up to the world?
How can we sing the Lord's song in
a strange land?
You who sojourn in Meshach You know how
great a grief it is What a damper
it is to your spirituality What a serious
hindrance it is to your growth in grace
Besides the company tempts believers to sin Who
can keep his garment pure when he travels
with black companions?
If I am condemned to walk continually in
the midst of thorns and briars It is
strange if I do not mar my garments
Often our nearest friends get a hold upon
our hearts And then being enemies to God
they lead us to do things Which we
otherwise would never have dreamed of doing The
company of the sinner is to the Christian
a matter of real loss In another respect
For when God comes to punish a nation
The Christian has to suffer with the sinners
of that nation National judgments fall as well
upon the holy as upon the profane And
hence through being mingled with the ungodly of
this world The Christian is a sufferer by
famine, war or pestilence Well may he, from
the little taste he is known of their
company cry Gather not my soul with sinners
Why brethren, I will put you for a
moment to the test You shall be in
the commercial room of an inn You are
on a journey And you sit down to
attend to your own business Or to await
the train Now if two or three fast
men come into the room And they begin
venting their filth and blasphemy How do you
feel?
You do not wish to hear You wish
you were deaf One of them cannot speak
without larding his conversation with an oath There
is another perhaps, a man elevated above the
situation Which his education fits him to occupy
Who in his conversation utters the most abominable
and atrocious language And the others laugh at
him Before many minutes you will steal out
of the room For you cannot endure it
What must it be to be shut in
with such persons forever?
On board a steamboat it may be you
fall into the middle of a little knot
Who are talking on some infidel subject in
a manner far from palatable to you Have
you not whisked yourself on shore?
And have you not walked to the other
end of the boat to be out of
their way?
I know you have felt that kind of
thing Your blood has chilled Horror has taken
hold upon you Because of the wicked who
keep not God's law If such has been
your experience You can well understand the reason
of the psalmist's prayer For much of such
torment you could not bear Moreover, I do
not know any class of sinners whose company
a Christian would desire I should not like
to live with the most precise of hypocrites
What ugly company to keep You cannot trust
them anywhere, always hollow Always ready to deceive
and to betray you I would not choose
to live with formalists, self-righteous people Because
whenever they begin to talk about themselves and
their own good deeds They do, as it
were, throw dirt upon the righteousness of Christ
Which is our boast, and that is ill
company for a Christian The believer triumphs in
the free grace of God The power of
the Holy Spirit and the efficacy of the
blood of Jesus But the self-righteous man
speaks only of his church goings and his
chapel goings His fastings and his almsgivings and
the like We cannot agree with the self
-truster We could almost as well associate with
the profane as we could with the self
-righteous As for blasphemers, we could not endure
them a moment Would you not as soon
be shut up in a tiger's den as
with a cursing, swearing, thievish profligate Who can
endure the company of either a Voltaire or
a Manning Find out the miserly, the mean,
the sneaking, the grasping, who likes to be
with them The angry, the petulant, who never
try to check the unholy passion One is
always glad to be away from such folks
You are afraid lest you should be held
responsible for their mad actions And therefore if
you must be with them, you are always
ill at ease With no sort of sinners
can the child of God be hail fellow
Lambs and wolves, doves and hawks, devils and
angels are not fit companions And so through
what little trial the righteous have had They
have learned that there is no sort of
sinners that they would like to be shut
up with forever But then we have other
reasons We know that when impenitent sinners are
gathered at the last Their characters will be
the same They were filthy here, they will
be filthy still Here on earth their sin
was in the bud, in hell it will
be full blown If they were bad here,
they will be worse there Here they were
restrained by providence, by company, by custom There,
there will be no restraints And hell will
be a world of sinners at large, a
land of outlaws A place where every man
shall follow out his own heart's most horrible
inclinations Who would wish to be with them?
Then again, the place where they will be
gathered alarms us The pit of hell, the
abode of misery and wrath forever Who would
be gathered there?
Then, their occupation They spend their time in
cursing God, in inventing and venting fresh blasphemies
They go from bad to worse, climbing down
the awful ladder of detestable depravity Who would
wish to be with them?
Remember too, their sufferings The pain of body
and of soul they know When God has
cast both body and soul into hell Who
would wish to be with them?
Recollect too, that they are banished forever from
God And God is our sun, therefore they
are in darkness God is our life, therefore
they are worse than dead God is our
joy, therefore they are wretched in the extreme
Why, this would be hell, if there were
no other hell to a Christian to be
banished from his God And moreover, they are
denied the joys of Christ's society No Saviour's
love for them, no blissful communion at his
right hand No living fountains of water to
which the Lamb shall lead them Oh my
God, when I think of what the sinner
is and where he is And how he
must be there forever, shut out from thee
My soul may well pray with anguish that
prayer Gather not my soul with sinners, thou
lovely chief of all my joys Thou sovereign
of my heart, how could I bear to
hear thy voice Pronounce the sound, depart Oh
wretched state of deep despair, to see my
God remove And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love Jesus, I
throw my arms around and hang upon thy
breast Without a gracious smile from thee, my
spirit cannot rest But I am afraid I
weary you And therefore, dear friends, let me
take you very briefly to the third point
There is in our text a fear As
if a whisper awakened the psalmist's ear to
trembling Perhaps, after all, you may be gathered
with the wicked Now that fear, although marred
by unbelief Springs in the main from holy
anxiety Do you not think that some of
us may well be the subjects of it
This holy anxiety may well arise if we
recollect our past sin Before we were converted,
we lived as others lived The lusts of
the flesh were ours We indulged our members,
we permitted sin to reign in our mortal
bodies without restraint And there will be times
to the pardoned man, even though he has
faith in Christ When he will begin to
think What if after all those sins should
be remembered And I should be left out
of the catalogue of the saved Then again
he recollects his present backwardness And as the
little apple on the tree, so sour and
unripe When it sees the crabs gathered, as
half afraid it may be gathered with them
So is he, with so little grace, so
little love He is afraid he shall be
gathered with the ungodly He recollects his own
unfruitfulness And as he sees the woodman going
round the orchard Knocking off first this rotten
bough and then cutting off the other decayed
branch He thinks there is so little fruit
on him Perhaps he may be cut off
too And so, what with his past sin,
his present backsliding and unfruitfulness He is half
afraid he may yet have to suffer the
doom of the wicked And then looking forward
to the future He recollects his own weakness
And the many temptations that beset him And
he fears that he may fall after all
and become a prey to the enemy With
all these things before him I wonder not
that the poor plant set yonder in the
garden Is half afraid that it may be
pulled up with the weeds And burned on
yonder blazing fire in the corner of the
garden Gather not my soul with sinners What
man is there among you who is not
need sometimes to tremble for himself If any
of you can say you are always confident
It is more than I can say I
would to God I could always know myself
saved and accepted in Christ But there are
times when a sense of sin within And
present evil and prevailing corruptions Make the preacher
feel that he is in jeopardy And compel
him to pray as he does sometimes now
in fear and trembling Oh God, gather not
my soul with sinners And here comes in
to conclude the answer to this prayer Which
is a word of consolation Brother, if you
have prayed this prayer And if your character
be rightly described in the psalm before us
Be not afraid that you ever shall be
gathered with sinners Have you the two things
that David had The outward walking in integrity
And the inward trusting in the Lord Do
you endeavor to make your outward conduct And
conversation conformable to the example of Christ Would
you scorn to be dishonest toward men Or
to be undevout toward God At the same
time are you resting upon Jesus Christ sacrifice
And can you compass the altar of God
with humble hope If so, then rest assured
with the wicked You never shall be gathered
For there are one or two things Which
render that calamity impossible The first is this
That the rule of the gathering Is like
to like Gather ye together first the tares
And bind them in bundles to burn them
All the tares together But gather the wheat
into my barn It is not make a
mixture of them Throw them together in a
heap Put the corn and tares in my
garner Oh no Tares in bundles, wheat in
sheaves If then thou art like God's people
Thou shalt be with God's people If thou
hast their life within Their character without If
thou restest on their Savior If thou lovest
their God If thou hast a longing towards
their holiness Thou shalt be gathered with them
Like to like There is another rule Those
who have been our proper comrades here Are
to be our companions hereafter God will be
pleased to send us Where we wish to
go in this life That is to say
If in this life I have loved the
haunt of the sinner If I have made
the theater my sanctuary If I have made
the drinking house my abode of pleasure If
I have found my solace with the gambler
And my comfort with the debauchee If I
have lived merely for business and for this
world And never for the next Then I
shall go with my companions I shall be
sent where I used to go Being let
go I shall go to my own company
among the lost But on the other hand
If I have loved God's house If I
can say with the psalmist I have loved
the habitation of thy house And the place
where thine honor dwelleth If the excellent of
the earth have been my companions And the
chosen of God have been my brethren I
shall not be separated from them I shall
have the same company in heaven That I
have had on earth If I have walked
with God here I shall reign with God
there If I have suffered with Christ here
I shall reign with Christ hereafter That that
is another thing Which prevents your being gathered
with the wicked Again You cannot be gathered
with the wicked For you are too dearly
bought Christ bought you with blood And he
will not cast you into the fire It
is a doctrine we never can hold That
Christ redeemed with his precious blood Any that
are damned in hell We cannot conceive it
possible That Christ should have stood there Sponsoring
suffering And yet they should be punished too
That he should pay the debt And then
they should have to pay it also And
again You are loved too much God the
eternal father has loved you long and well
And proved that to you by his great
gift And by his daily consideration and care
of you And it is not therefore possible
That he should permit you The darling of
his heart The child of his desire A
member of the mystical body of his only
beloved son To perish forever in Tophet Again
That new nature within you Will not let
you be gathered with sinners What does your
new nature do?
What must it do?
It must love God What?
Love God and be in hell Your new
nature must pray What?
Pray in the pit Your new nature must
praise the God that created it What?
Sing songs to the divine being Amidst the
howling of the damned Impossible If thou hast
a new heart and a right spirit If
thy soul clings with both its hands to
the cross of Christ If thou lovest Jesus
and longest to be like him Thou mayest
have this fear But it is a groundless
one For thou shalt never be gathered with
sinners But thy feet shall stand in the
congregation of the righteous In the day when
the wicked are cast away forever I had
hoped this morning so To have handled my
text That may have God might bless it
to the sinner And who can tell?
It may be so Sinner If it be
a dreadful thing to be gathered with thee
What a frightful thing thy gathering must be
My dear here Careless and thoughtless This morning
I have no fervid words with which to
awake you No earnest tones with which to
startle you But still From my soul I
do entreat you consider That if it be
a subject of horror to us To dwell
with you forever It must be an awful
thing to be a sinner And wilt thou
be a sinner any longer?
Wilt thou abide where thou now art?
Alas Thou canst not save thyself Thou art
hopelessly ruined Thou hast lost all power as
well as all virtue Thou art as a
dead thing As a potter's vessel that is
broken to shivers with a rod of iron
But there is one who can save thee
Even Jesus And his saving voice to thee
this morning is Believe in me and thou
shalt be saved To believe in him Is
to believe that he can save thee And
therefore to trust Dost thou not believe that
of him who is God?
Canst thou not believe that of him whose
ways are not as thy ways Whose grace
is boundless and whose love is free?
Wilt thou now believe that Christ can save
thee And that he will save thee?
And wilt thou now trust thyself to him
to save thee?
Say in thy heart Here Lord I give
my soul up to thee to save it
I believe thou wilt and thou canst Thy
nature and thy name are love And I
trust thy name I believe in thy goodness
I repose in thee Sinner You are saved
God has saved you No soul ever so
believed in Christ and yet was left unpardoned
Go thy way be of good cheer Thy
sins which are many are all forgiven thee
Rejoice thou in him evermore For thou shalt
never be gathered with sinners May God give
his blessing to you now For Jesus Christ's
sake Amen