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Where Are Your Sins?

Written by: Ryle, J.C.    Posted on: 04/04/2004

Category: Sermons


Where Are Your Sins?
A Question about Absolution.

BY THE RIGHT REV.
JOHN CHARLES RYLE, D.D.,
LORD BISHOP OF LIVERPOOL.

DRUMMOND’S TRACT DEPOT, STIRLING.
LONDON: S. W.  PARTRIDGE & Co.

WHERE ARE YOUR SINS?
“Make me to know my transgression and my sin.”—JOB xiii. 22.
“Cleanse me from my sin.”—PSALM li.  2.
“The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”—1 JOHN i. 7.
“Christ Jesus, whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation, through faith in His blood.”—ROM. iii. 25.

READER,

The question which forms the title of this tract ought to stir up many thoughts in your heart.  It concerns every man and woman born into the world.  You ought never to rest till you can give it a satisfactory answer.—“WHERE ARE YOUR SINS?”

I ask you this day to look this question in the face.  I ask you to give me your attention for a few minutes, while I try to enforce it on your conscience.  A time draws nigh when the question must be answered.  The hour cometh when all other questions shall seem like a drop of water in comparison with this.  We shall not say, “Where is my money?”—or, “Where are my lands?”—or, “Where is my property?” Our only thought will be, “My sins!  my sins!—Where are my sins?”

Reader, I am going to offer you a few remarks, which may help to throw light on the mighty question which is before your eyes.  My heart’s desire and prayer to God is this, that this tract may be greatly useful to your soul.  I entreat you to give it fair reading.  Do not put it in the fire; do not tear it in pieces.  Read it: read it!  Read it to the end!  Who can tell but the Holy Ghost may employ this tract for the saving of your soul

I.   My first remark is this.  You have many sins.  I say this boldly, and without the least hesitation.

I know not who you are, or how the time past of your life has been spent.  But I know, from the Word of God, that every son and daughter of Adam is a great sinner in the sight of God.  There is no exception: it is the common disease of the whole family of Adam, in every quarter of the globe.  From the king on his throne, to the beggar by the roadside,—from the landlord in his hall, to the labourer in his cottage,—from the fine lady in her drawing-room, to the humblest maid-servant in the kitchen,—from the clergyman in the pulpit, to the little child in the Sunday-school,—we are all by nature guilty, guilty: guilty in the sight of God.  “In many things we offend all.”—“There is none righteous: no, not one.”—“All have sinned,” “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” (James iii. 2; Rom.10; v. 12; 1 John i. 8.) It is useless to deny it.  We have all sinned many sins!

Reader, do you doubt the truth of these words?  Then go and examine the law of God, as expounded by the Son of God Himself.  Read with attention the fifth chapter of St. Matthew’s Gospel.  See how the commandments of God apply to our words as well as to our actions, and to our thoughts and motives, as well as to our words.  Know that “the Lord seeth not as man seeth: man looketh at the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh at the heart.” In His sight the very “thought of foolishness is sin.” (1 Sam. xvi. 7; Prov. xxiv. 9.)

And now turn to the history of your own life, and try it by the standard of’ this holy law.  Think of the days of your childhood, and all your waywardness, and selfishness, and evil tempers, and perversity, and backwardness to that which is good.—Remember the days of your youth,—your self-will, your pride, your worldly inclinations, your impatience of control, your longing after forbidden things.—Call to mind your conduct since you came to man's estate, and the many departures from the right way, of which you have been guilty every year.—Surely, in the face of your life’s history, you will not stand up and say, “I have not sinned!”

And then turn to the history of your own heart.  Consider how many evil things have gone through it, of which the world knows nothing at all.—Remember the thousands of sinful imaginations, and corrupt ideas, which your heart has entertained, even while your outward conduct has been correct, moral, and respectable.—Think of the vile thoughts, and deceitful intentions, and false motives, and malicious, envious, spiteful feelings, which have walked up and down in your inward man, while those nearest to you never dreamed or guessed what was going on.—Surely, in the face of your heart’s history, you will not stand up and say, “I have not sinned!”

Reader, once more I ask you, Do you doubt what I am saying?  Do you doubt whether you have sinned many sins?—Then go and examine the twenty-fifth chapter of St. Matthew’s Gospel.  Read the concluding portion of that chapter, which describes the proceedings of the judgment day.  Note carefully the grounds on which the wicked, at the left hand, are condemned to everlasting fire.  No mention is made of great open acts of wickedness which they have committed.  They are not charged with having murdered, or stolen, or borne false witness, or committed adultery.  They are condemned for sins of omission!  The mere fact that they have left undone things which they ought to have done, is sufficient to ruin their souls for ever.  In short, a man’s sins of emission alone are enough to sink him into hell!

And now look at yourself by the light of this wonderful passage of Scripture.  Try to remember the countless things you have left undone, which you might have done, and have left unsaid, that you might have said.  The acts of self-denying kindness, which you might have performed, but have neglected,—how many they are!  The good you might have done, and the happiness you might have caused, at very little trouble to yourself,—how vast is the amount of it!  Surely, in the face of our Lord’s teaching about sins of omission, you will not stand up and say, “I have not sinned!”

Reader, once more I ask, Do you doubt the truth of what I am saying?  I think it quite possible that you do.  I know something of man’s exceeding blindness to his own natural state.  Listen to me once more, whilst I ply your conscience with another argument.  Oh, that God may open your eyes, and show you what you are!

Sit down, and take pen and paper, and count up the sins that you have probably sinned since you first knew good from evil.  Sit down, I say, and make a sum.  Grant for a moment that there have been, on an average, fifteen hours in every twenty-four during which you have been awake, and an active and accountable being.—Grant for a moment that in each one of these fifteen hours you have sinned only two sins.  Surely you will not say that this is an unfair supposition.  Remember, we may sin against God in thought, word, or deed.  I repeat, it cannot be thought an extreme thing to suppose that in each waking hour you have, in thought, or word, or deed, sinned two sins.  And now add up the sins of your life, and see to what sum they will amount.

At the rate of fifteen waking hours in a day, you have sinned every day thirty sins!—At the rate of seven days in a week, you have sinned two hundred and ten sins every week!—At the rate of four weeks in every month, you have sinned eight hundred and forty sins every month!—At the rate of twelve months in every year, you have sinned ten thousand and eighty sins every year!—And, in short, not to go further with the calculation, every ten years of your life you have sinned, at the lowest computation, more than ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND SINS!

Reader, I do beseech you to look calmly at this sum.  I defy you to disprove its correctness.  I ask you, on the contrary, whether I have not entirely understated your case?  I appeal to you, as an honest person, whether it be not true, that many an hour, and many a day in your life, you have sinned incessantly?  I ask you confidently, whether the sum would not be far more correct if the total number of your sins was multiplied ten-fold?—Oh, cease from your self-righteousness!  Lay aside this proud affectation of “not being so very bad,” in which you are trying to wrap yourself up.  Be bold enough to confess the truth.  Listen not to that old liar, the devil.  Surely in the face of that damning sum which I have just cast up, you will not dare to deny that “you have many sins.”

I leave this part of my subject here, and pass on.  I sadly fear that many a reader will run his eye over what I have been saying, and remain unconvinced and unmoved.  I have learned by mournful experience that the last thing a man finds out and understands, is his own state in the sight of God.  Well saith the Holy Ghost, that we are all by nature “blind,” and “deaf,” and “dumb,” and “asleep,” and “beside ourselves,” and “dead!” Nothing, nothing, nothing will ever convince man of sin but the power of the Holy Ghost.  Show him hell, and he will not flee from it; show him heaven, and he will not seek it; silence him with warnings, and yet he will not stir; prick his conscience, and yet he will remain hard.  Power from on high must come down and do the work.  To show man what he really is, needs the Holy Spirit of God.

Reader, if you have any feeling of your own sinfulness, you ought to thank God for it.  That very sense of weakness, wickedness, and corruption, which perhaps makes you uncomfortable, is in reality a token for good, and a cause for praise.  The first step towards being really good, is to feel bad.  The first preparation for heaven, is to know that we deserve nothing but hell.  Before we can be counted righteous we must know ourselves to be miserable sinners.  Before we can have inward happiness and peace with God, we must learn to be ashamed and confounded because of our manifold transgressions.  Before we can rejoice in a well-grounded hope, we must be taught to say, “Unclean!  unclean!  God, be merciful to me a sinner!”

Reader, if you love your soul, beware of checking and stifling this inward feeling of your own sinfulness.  I beseech you, by the mercies of God, do not trample on it, do not crush it, do not take it by the throat and refuse to give it your attention.  Beware of taking the advice of worldly men about it.  Treat it not as a case of low-spirits, disordered health, or anything of the kind.  Beware of listening to the devil’s counsel about it.  Do not try to drown it in drink and revelling; do not try to drive over it with horses, and dogs, and carriages, and field-sports; do not try to purge it away by a course of card-parties, and balls, and concerts.  Oh, reader, if you love your soul, do not, do not treat the first sense of sin in this miserable fashion.  Do not commit spiritual suicide,—do not murder your soul!

Go rather and pray God to show you what this feeling of sin means.  Ask Him to send the Holy Spirit to teach you what you are, and what He would have you to do.  Go and read your Bible, and see whether there is not just cause for your being uncomfortable, and whether this sense of being “wicked and bad” is not just what you have a right to expect.  Who can tell but it is a seed from heaven which is one day to bear fruit in Paradise in your complete salvation?  Who can tell but it is a spark from heaven which God means to blow up into a steady and shining light?  Who can tell but it is a stone from above before which the devil’s kingdom in your heart is to go down, and a stone which shall prove the first foundation of a glorious temple of the Holy Ghost?—Happy indeed is that man or woman who can go along with my first remark, and say, “IT IS TRUE: I HAVE MANY SINS.”

II.  My second remark is this.  It is of the utmost importance to have our sins cleansed away.

I say this boldly and confidently.  I am aware of the multitude of things which are thought “important” in the world, and receive the first and best of men’s attentions.  But I know well what I am saying.  I am bold to say that my Master’s business deserves to be placed before all other business; and I learn from my Master’s book that there is nothing of such importance to a man as to have his sins forgiven and cleansed away.

Remember, reader, there is a God above you.  You see Him not in the city.  Hurry and bustle, trade and commerce, appear to swallow up men’s minds.  You see Him not in the country.  Farming and labouring go on in regular course, and seed time and harvest never fail.  But all this time there is an eternal Eye looking down from heaven and seeing all that man do: an eye that never slumbers, and never sleeps.  Yes!  there is not only a Queen, and a government, and a landlord, and a master, to be remembered: there is One higher, far higher than all these, who expects His dues to be paid.  That One is the most high God.

This God is a God of infinite holiness.  He is of purer eyes than to look upon iniquity, and cannot bear that which is evil.  He sees defects and infirmities where you see none.  In His sight the very heavens are not clean.—He is a God of infinite knowledge.  He knows every thought, and word, and action of every son of Adam’s children: there are no secrets hid from Him.  All that we think, and say, and do, is noted down and recorded in the book of His remembrance.—He is a God of infinite power.  He made all things at the beginning.  He orders all things according to His will.  He casts down the Kings of this world in a moment.  None can stand against Him when He is angry.—Above all, He is a God in whose hands are our lives and all our concerns.  He first gave us being.  He has kept us alive since we were born.  He will remove us when He sees fit, and reckon with us according to our ways.  Such is the God with whom we have to do.

Reader, think of these things.  Surely when you consider you will be afraid.  Surely you will see it is of the utmost importance to have your sins cleansed away.  Surely you will inquire, “How do matters stand between me and God?”

Remember, furthermore, that death is before you.  You cannot live always.  There must be an end, one day, of all your scheming and planning, and buying and selling, and working and toiling.  A visitor will come to your house who will take no denial.  The king of terrors will demand admission, and serve you with notice to quit.  Where are the rulers and kings who governed millions a hundred years ago?  Where are the rich men who made fortunes and founded houses?  Where are the landlords who received rents, and added field to field?  Where are the labourers who ploughed the land and reaped the corn?  Where are the clergymen who read services and preached sermons?  Where are the children who played in the sunshine as if they would never be old?  Where are the old men who leaned on their sticks and gossiped about the days when they were young?  There is but one answer.  They are all dead: dead, dead!  Strong, and beautiful, and active as they once were, they are all dust and ashes now.  Mighty and important as they all thought their business, it all came to an end.  And we are travelling in the same way!  A few more years, and we also shall be lying in our graves!

Reader, think of these things.  Surely when you consider your latter end you will not think the cleansing away of sin a light matter.  Surely you will see something in the question, “Where are your sins?” Surely you will consider, “How am I going to die?”

Remember, furthermore, that resurrection and judgment await you.  All is not over when the last breath is drawn and your body becomes a lump of cold clay.  No: all is not over!  The realities of existence then begin.  The shadows will have passed away for ever.  The trumpet shall one day sound, and call you forth from your narrow bed; the graves shall be rent asunder, and their tenants shall be summoned forth to meet God; the ears that would not obey the church going bell shall be obliged to obey that summons; the proud wills that would not submit to listen to sermons shall be compelled to listen to the judgment of God.  The great white throne shall be set: the books shall be opened.  Every man, woman, and child, shall be arraigned at that great assize.  Every one shall be judged according to his works.  The sins of every one shall be answered for.  And every one shall receive his eternal portion either in heaven or in hell!

Reader, think of these things.  Surely in remembrance of that day you must allow that the subject I am upon deserves attention.  Surely you must confess that it is of the utmost importance to have your sins cleansed away.  Surely you will consider, “How am I going to be judged?”

I must speak out what is upon my mind.  I feel great sorrow and trouble of heart about many men and women in the world.  I fear for many who live in this so called Christian land; I fear for many who profess and call themselves Christians; I fear for many who go to church or chapel every Sunday and have a decent form of religion; I fear that they do not see the immense importance of having their sins cleansed away.  I can see plainly that there are many other things which they think far more important.  Money, and land, and farms, and horses, and carriages, and dogs, and meat, and drink, and clothes, and houses, and marriages, and families, and business, and pleasure,—these, these are the sort of things which many evidently think the “first things.” And as for the forgiveness and cleansing away of their sins, it is a mat­ter which has only the second place in their thoughts.

See the man of business, as he pores over his ledger and account books, and runs his eye over the columns of figures.  See the man of pleasure, as he tears over the country with his horses and dogs, or rushes after excitement at the races, the theatre, the card party, or the ball.  See the poor thoughtless labourer, as he carries off his hard-earned wages to the public house, and wastes them in ruining both body and soul.  See them all, how thoroughly they are in earnest!  See them all, how they throw their hearts into what they are doing!—And then mark them all at church next Sunday: listless, careless, yawning, sleepy, and indifferent, as if there were no God, and no devil, and no Christ, and no heaven, and no hell!  Mark how evident it is that they have left their hearts outside the church!  Mark how plain it is that they have no real interest in religion!  And then say whether it be not true that many know nothing of the importance of having their sins cleansed away.  Oh, reader, take heed lest this be the case with you!

Reader, do you feel anything of the importance of being forgiven?  Then, in the name of God, I call upon you to encourage that feeling more and more This is the point to which we desire to bring all people’s souls.  We want you to understand that religion does not consist in professing certain outward duties, and going through certain outward forms.  It consists in being reconciled to God, and enjoying peace with Him.  It consists in having our sins cleansed away, and knowing that they are cleansed.  It consists in being brought back into friendship with the King of kings, and living in the sunshine of that friendship.—Listen not to those who would fain persuade you that if you only “go to church” regularly you will of course go to heaven.  Settle it rather in your mind, that true saving religion, such as the Bible teaches, is another kind of thing altogether.  The very foundation of real Christianity is to know that you have many sins, and deserve hell,—and to feel the importance of having these sins cleansed away, in order that you may go to heaven.

Happy, says the world, are they who have plenty of property and fine houses!  Happy are they who have carriages, and horses, and servants, and large balances at their bankers, and great troops of friends!  Happy are they who are clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day, who have nothing to do but to spend their money and enjoy themselves!—Yet what is the real value of such happiness?  It gives no solid, real satisfaction, even at the time of enjoyment.  It endures but for a few years.  It only lasts till death comes in, like the hand at Belshazzar’s feast, and breaks up all.  And then, in too many cases, this so-called happiness is exchanged for ETERNAL MISERY IN HELL.

“Blessed,” says the Word of God, “are those whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered!  Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity!—Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven!  Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted!  Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled!” (Psalm xxxii. 1, 2; Matt. v. 2, &e.)—Their blessedness shall never come to an end: their happiness is no summer-dried fountain, just failing when need is the sorest; their friends are no summer swallows, forsaking them, like Adonijah’s guests, the first moment that the trumpet sounds.  Their sun shall never go down.  Their joy shall bud in time, and bloom in eternity.  Theirs, in a word, is true happiness, for it is for evermore.

Reader, do you believe what I am saying?  It is all true.  You will see one day whose words shall stand, the words of man or the Word of God.  Be wise in time.  Settle it in your heart this very hour, that the most important thing that man can attend to is the cleansing and forgiveness of his sins.

III.  My third remark is this.  You cannot cleanse away your own sins.

I make this statement boldly and confidently.  Startling as it sounds to the natural heart, I lay it down as a piece of undeniable Scriptural truth.  In spite of all the Pharisees, and Roman Catholics, and Socinians, and Deists, and idolaters of human reason and human power, I unhesitatingly repeat my assertions.—Man’s sins are many and great.  It is of the utmost importance that these sins should be cleansed away.  Man’s guilt in the sight of God, is enormous.  Man’s danger of hell, after he dies, is imminent and tremendous.  And yet man cannot cleanse away his own sins.  It is written, and it is true, “By deeds of the law shall no flesh be justified.” (Rom. iii. 20.)

It will not cleanse away your sins to be sorry for them.  You may mourn over your past wickedness, and humble yourself in sackcloth and ashes.  You may shed floods of tears, and acknowledge your own guilt and danger.  You may,—you must,—you ought to do this.  But you will not by so doing wipe out your transgressions from the book of God.  SORROW CANNOT MAKE ATONEMENT FOR SIN.

The convicted criminal in a court of justice is often sorry for his offences.  He sees the misery and ruin they have brought upon him.  He mourns over his folly in not listening to advice and in giving way to temptation.  But the judge does not let him off because he is sorry.  The deed has been done: the law has been broken; the penalty has been incurred.  The punishment must be inflicted, notwithstanding the criminal’s tears.—Reader, this is precisely your position in the sight of God.  Your sorrow is right, and good, and proper.  But your sorrow has no power whatever to cleanse away your sins.  It needs something more than penitence to take the burden off your heart.

It will not cleanse away your sins to mend your life.  You may reform your conduct, and turn over a new leaf: you may break off many evil habits, and take up many good ones; you may become, in short, an altered man in all your outward behaviour.  You may,—you must,—you ought, to do so.  Without such change no soul ever was saved.  But you will not, by so doing, wipe away one particle of your guilt in God’s sight.  REFORMATION MAKES NO ATONEMENT FOR SIN.

The bankrupt tradesman, who owes ten thousand pounds and has not ten shillings to pay, may resolve to become a reformed character.  After wasting his whole substance in riotous living, he may become steady, temperate, and respectable.  It is all right and proper that he should be so: but this will not satisfy the claims of those to whom he owes money.  Once more I say, this is precisely your case by nature in the sight of God.  You owe him ten thousand talents, and have nothing to pay.  To-day’s amendments are all very well, but they do not wipe away yesterday’s debts.—It requires something more than amendment and reformation to give you a light heart and to set your conscience free.

It will not cleanse away your sins to become diligent in the use of the forms and ordinances of religion.  You may alter your habits about Sunday, and attend services from morning to night: you may take pains to hear preaching on week-days, as well as on Sundays; you may receive the Lord’s Supper on every possible occasion, and give alms, and keep fasts.  It is all very well as far as it goes.  It is a right and proper thing to attend to your religious duties.  But all the means of grace in the world will never do you any good so long as you trust in them as saviours.  They will not bind up the wounds of your heart, and give you inward peace.  FORMALITY CANNOT MAKE ATONEMENT FOR SIN.

A lantern on a dark night is a very useful thing.  It can help the traveller to find his way home; it can preserve him from losing his path, and keep him from falling into danger.  But the lantern itself is not the traveller’s fireside.  The man who is content to sit down in the road by the side of his lantern, must never be surprised if he dies of cold.  Reader, if you try to satisfy your conscience with a formal attendance on means of grace, you are no wiser than this traveller.  It needs something more than formality to take the burden from your conscience, and to give you peace with God.

It will not cleanse away your sins to look to man for help.  It is not in the power of any child of Adam to save another’s soul.  No bishop, no priest, no ordained man of any Church or denomination has power to forgive sins: no human absolution, however solemnly conferred, can purge that conscience which is not purged by God.  It is well to ask the counsel of the ministers of the Gospel when the conscience is perplexed.  It is their office to help the labouring and heavy-laden, and to show them the way of peace.  But it is not in the power of any minister to deliver any man from his guilt.  We can only show the path that must be followed: we can only point out the door at which every one must knock.  It requires a hand far stronger than that of man to take the chains off conscience, and set the prisoner free.

The bankrupt who asks a bankrupt to set him up in business again is only losing time; the pauper who travels off to a neighbour pauper, and begs him to help him out of difficulties, is only troubling himself in vain.  The prisoner does not beg his fellow-prisoner to set him free; the shipwrecked sailor does not call on his shipwrecked comrade to place him safe ashore.  Help in all these cases must come from some other quarter: relief in all these cases must be sought from some other hand.  Reader, it is just the same in the matter of cleansing away your sins.  So long as you seek it from man, whether man ordained or man not ordained, you seek it where it cannot be found.  You must go further: you must look higher.  You must turn elsewhere for comfort.  It is not in the power of any man on earth or in heaven to take the burden of sin from off a brother’s soul.  “None can by any means redeem his brother, nor give a ransom for him.” (Psalm xlix. 7.)

Reader, thousands in every age have tried to cleanse themselves from their sins in the ways I have now described, and have tried in vain.  Thousands, I doubt not, are trying at this very moment, and find themselves “nothing bettered, but rather worse.” They are climbing up a steep precipice of ice, toiling hard and yet slipping backwards as fast as they climb.—They are pouring water into a cask full of holes, labouring busily, and yet no nearer the end of their work than when they began.—They are rowing a boat against a rapid stream, plying the oar diligently, and yet in reality losing ground every minute.—They are trying to build up a wall of loose sand, wearing themselves out with fatigue, and yet seeing their work roll down on them as fast as they throw it up.—They are striving to pump dry a sinking ship: the water gains on them and they will soon be drowned.—Such is the experience, in every part of the world, of all who think to cleanse themselves from their sins.  Reader, be warned to-day.  Do not be one of them.

Beware, I do entreat you, of quack medicines in religion.  Beware of supposing that penitence, and reformation, and formality, and priest-craft, can ever give you peace with God.  They cannot do it.  It is not in them.  The man who says they can must be ignorant of two things.  He cannot know the length and breadth of human sinfulness: he cannot understand the height and depth of the holiness of God.  There never breathed the man or woman on earth who tried to cleanse himself from his sins, and in so doing obtained relief.

Reader, if you have found out this truth by experience, be diligent to impart it to others.  Show them as plainly as you can their guilt and danger by nature.  Tell them, with no less plainness, the immense importance of having their sins forgiven and cleansed away.  But then warn them not to waste time in seeking to be cleansed in unlawful fashions.  Warn them against the specious advice of “Mr. Legality” and his companions, so vividly described in “Pilgrim’s Progress.” Warn them against false remedies and sham medicines for the soul.  Send them to the old wicket-gate, described in Scripture, however hard and rough the way may seem.  Tell them it is “the old path and the good way,” and that, whatever men may say, it is the only way to obtain cleansing of our sins.

IV.  The fourth remark I have to make is this.  The blood of Jesus Christ can cleanse away all your sins.

Reader, I enter on this part of my tract with a thankful heart.  I bless God that after setting before you the awful nature of your spiritual disease, I am able to set before you an almighty remedy.  But I feel it needful to dwell upon this remedy for a few minutes.  A thing of such wondrous efficacy as this blood ought to be clearly understood: there should be no vagueness or mystery in your ideas about it.  When you hear of the “blood of Christ” you ought thoroughly to comprehend what the expression means

The blood of Christ is that life-blood which Jesus shed when He died for sinners upon the cross.  It is the blood which flowed so freely from His head pierced with thorns, and His hands and feet pierced with nails, and His side pierced with a spear, in the day when He was crucified and slain.  The quantity of that blood may very likely have been small; the appearance of that blood was doubtless like that of our own: but never since the day when Adam was first formed out of the dust of the ground, has any blood been shed of such deep importance to the whole family of mankind.

It was blood that had been long covenanted and promised.  In the day when sin came into the world, God mercifully engaged that “the Seed of the woman should bruise the serpent’s head.” One born of woman should appear one day, and deliver the children of Adam from Satan’s power.  That Seed of the woman was our Lord Jesus Christ.  In the day that He suffered on the cross, He triumphed over Satan and accomplished redemption for mankind.  When Jesus shed His life-blood on the cross, the head of the serpent was bruised, and the ancient promise was fulfilled.

It was blood that had been long typified and prefigured.  Every sacrifice that was offered up by patriarchs, was a testimony

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