Table of Contents

Railway Tracts. - No. 1

Railway Tracts. - No. 2

Railway Tracts. - No. 3

Railway Tracts. - No. 4

Railway Tracts. - No. 5

Railway Tracts. - No. 6

Railway Tracts. - No. 7

Railway Tracts. - No. 8

Railway Tracts. - No. 9

Railway Tracts. - No. 10

Railway Tracts. - No. 11

Railway Tracts. - No. 12

Railway Tracts. - No. 13

Railway Tracts. - No. 14

Railway Tracts. - No. 15

Railway Tracts. - No. 16

Charles Stanley - Volume 1 - Railway Tracts

Charles Stanley

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With the prayerful desire that the Lord Jesus Christ will use this God-given ministry in this form for His glory and the blessing of many in these last days before His coming. © Les Hodgett (contact@stempublishing.com) (2011)

Railway Tracts. - No. 1

The Son of God: His Word or Man's Word?

I had taken my seat one afternoon in a train Liverpool for Southport, when a Romish priest entered the carriage, and sat down on the seat opposite to me. Having long had a desire to speak to a priest, I felt that this was my opportunity. I said, "Sir, I have long had an impression on my mind, and I should take it as a favour if you would allow me to ask you a question." He very politely said, "I shall be most happy to answer you to the best of my ability." I said, "Well, sir, if I am rightly informed, there is a very serious question at issue, between you and the Son of God." "Indeed," he replied, and all eyes were turned towards us, and all ears were opened to know what this could be. "The question is this, sir; the Son of God says (John 5:24), 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my words, and believeth on Him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life;' — now, sir, I have been told that all you priests say, 'Verily, verily, we say unto you, he that heareth our words, and believeth on Him that sent us, can never know that he hath everlasting life, — shall never in the present life know whether he shall come into condemnation or not, nor whether he is passed from death unto life or not.' Now, sir, I wish to know from you, whether there is so flat a contradiction in your teaching, to the words of the Son of God." I shall never forget the man's look. He said, "May I ask who you are?" "Oh," said I, "through the mercy of God, I am one who had heard and received the words of Christ, and I have found them words of life. I do believe that God send Him to die the sacrifice for my sins. I do believe that God raised Him from the dead. I have redemption through His precious blood — even the forgiveness of sins; yes, and His blood cleanseth me from all sins. Oh, yes! I do believe these precious words, and I have everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation. I have passed, from death unto life, — hearing His words I have all this; — What should I have if I believed your words?" "Ah," says the priest, "you must be mistaken in supposing it possible in this life to know that you are saved, or what could St. Paul mean, when he said, 'No man knows whether he is worthy of favour or hatred?'" I reached the Bible which I had in my hand, towards him, and said, "Will you kindly shew me where St. Paul says any such thing." "Oh," says he, "I think you know more about it than I do, you can find it sooner than I can." I replied, "Indeed I cannot find what is not in his writings — but I will gladly read what he does say. In the Acts 13:38, 39, after speaking of the death and resurrection of Christ, he says 'Be it known unto you, therefore, men and brethren, that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins; and by him all that believe are justified from all things,' &c. In Rom. 5:1, he says, 'Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ.' (Col. 1:14) 'In whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.' Why, my dear sir, there is nothing makes a man so happy as to know that his sins are forgiven." "But do you mean to say there is no such passage in the Bible as the one I named?" asked the priest. "On the subject of salvation there is not such a text," I replied. "Solomon, when speaking of the vanity of this life, did say, 'No man knoweth either love or hatred by all that is before them.' (Eccl. 9:1.) He did not mean to deny the Gospel by this passage but urged the usual mistake." "I think," said he, "that man must be very presumptuous, who thinks himself so holy and so good as to be quite sure he is saved. He may have many of the fruits of the Spirit in him, but yet it becomes him humbly to doubt." "Yes, indeed," said I, "and if that were the ground of salvation, it would become him for ever to doubt — but, sir, you make a fatal mistake in supposing that a Christian's hope is based on his goodness or holiness, or even on the work of the Spirit in him. There are thousands who are seeking peace with God this way, I know, but there never was one that found it thus. No, sir, it is not my work, or the work of the Spirit in me but the work of the Son of God for me, on which I must rely. He loved me, and gave Himself for me. Now, I ask, is it presumption to believe on Him whom God raised from the dead? He is the rock that shall never be moved. Have you never read, sir, in chapter 10 of the Epistle to the Hebrews, that the offering of the body of Jesus Christ for ever perfects, and that the Holy Ghost is to bear witness of this? (Heb. 10:14, 15.) 'For by one offering He hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified. Whereof the Holy Ghost also is a witness to us.' Yes, and however men may reject his witness, still it is true that we 'have boldness to enter into the Holiest by the blood of Jesus.' This peace can never be interrupted. Now, sir, would you not be very happy if you were quite sure that God had for Christ's sake, forgiven your sins — as He certainly had forgiven the Ephesian believers, and every believer mentioned in the New Testament?" "Ah," he said, "if you will come up to my house at Birkenhead, I will teach you." He said this as he left the train. My last words to him were these: — "That would be poor teaching where all is uncertainty and darkness." Just as the priest had left the carriage, a young man who had listened with the deepest attention, said, "Will you speak to me a little further, of the difference between resting on the finished work of Christ for me, and the work of the Spirit in me?" He said, that "he had for many years been an anxious seeker of salvation, but had looked for a sufficient depth of the Spirit's work in him, to be sure he had the witness of the Spirit and was saved." A friend who was with me, from Manchester, showed him from the Word, that the Spirit did not bear witness how good we are, but how exceedingly bad, utterly ruined we are by sin; but that God Himself has sent His Son to be offered up for our sins — and that the moment we cease from our own foolish efforts to be saved by our works, and come to Christ with all our sin and misery, just as we are, then we have peace, according to His own words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." In short, that the Spirit bears witness to the glory and worth of Christ. Light burst into the young man's soul, and at once he found peace through the precious blood of Christ.

And now, dear reader, with eternity before you, may I ask, Are you saved? If not, when and how do you expect to be saved? If not saved, you belong to that world which has rejected and put to death the Lord Jesus Christ, the son of God. The Romish priest has no salvation for you. He does not even know that that he is saved himself. If you know a priest, ask him if he knows himself to be saved, and you will find on this most important question all is uncertainty with him.

Come to Christ: all is certain. "My peace I give unto you." Oh, don't delay; to-morrow may be too late. Do you ask, What shall I do? Oh, hear the words of Christ — let no man hinder you from searching the Scriptures. "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." Behold Him now, His work of redemption finished, He, has sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high. As sure as you are reading this paper — so sure is it, that He who died for sin is in the glory alive from the dead, raised for our justification; — even so sure is it, that he that believes on Him who raised Christ from the dead (Rom. 4:24), is justified, is saved. Let go doubt, lot go works, lot go self, let go all; receive Christ, trust Christ — oh, is it so? is Christ your all? If so, you have life — risen life, the life of the risen victorious Christ, the Son of God, — for he that hath the Son hath life. If you be risen in Christ, seek to give body, soul, and spirit to Him, not that you may be saved, but because He so loved you as to save you by His own death. Oh, the love of Christ! the love of God! We love Him because He first loved us.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 2

The Handcuffs: or the Deserter

I was walking along the Birmingham platform for a few minutes before the train started for Bristol, when my attention was drawn to a deserter, handcuffed, and seated between a private and a sergeant. His features betrayed distress of mind. The thought suddenly occurred to me, if my Master were here, He would take His seat by the side of this man. Yes, blessed Jesus, Thy heart was too full of compassion, ever to pass by a distressed sufferer. These thoughts led me to take my seat opposite the poor man. I sat some time in silence, thinking of the mercy of God, in delivering me from Sergeant Satan, and the handcuffs of sin. Reader, if you are delivered, thank God — if not, then sit down with me a little, and listen attentively. The poor deserter appeared to be about forty years of age. He had been a deserter many years, but had become so exceedingly miserable, that he had given himself up to the authorities. Having been thus severed from those most dear to him on earth, and that probably for ever, I found his heart was too full of sorrow to bear much conversation; but the following, as nearly as I can remember, took place with the sergeant.

"You seem to have brought your captive some distance?"

"Oh yes, sir, from beyond Glasgow!"

"Indeed! It must be very painful to have had the hands in that bound position so far."

"Oh yes, sir."

The man's heart seemed nearly as hard as the bayonet by his side.

"Well, sergeant," said I, "have you got your handcuffs off yet? or are you still led captive by the devil? He knows that sin will handcuff a man, and draw him along to judgment and to hell. — It's sore work, sergeant, to be dragged like that, Eh?"

"Well, sir, I'll tell you, I think a soldier will have less to answer for than anybody. He is not tempted to rob and cheat, like the commercial man; and, indeed, he's a good-hearted follow, only he gets a little sup too much grog sometimes."

"Ah, there you may be mistaken. I think I can show you a greater sin than taking the drink. I will suppose this prisoner, first to have been led to enlist through the influence of drink. Granted, then, that drink has made him what he is. He may cast a look far behind him and say, My sin in drinking has broken the heart of my poor wife, has dragged me from my crying children;" — (here the tears began to run down the face of the poor deserter) — well now, sergeant, if an officer from the Horse-guards were to meet you on your way, say at Cheltenham, with the good news for our friend here, that a great ransom had been paid — that the Queen had sent down his discharge — now, sergeant, which would be the greater sin? the drunkenness that has brought all this misery on himself and his poor family, or the hard-hearted cruel sin of refusing to trust to the ransom purchased at so great a price? O let me tell you, sin has brought us into bondage, misery, and death. Satan has thus handcuffed man to himself. This man might sleep, and dream there was no sergeant here, and no handcuffs; but when he wakes up he finds it is only a dream. You are still there. And men may dream there is no devil, to whom they are bound by sin, and dragged by lust; but, when they truly awake, they find this bondage a terrible reality. But ah! if you knew the love of God, to us poor handcuffed sinners! Even whilst we were yet sinners, God gave a great price for our ransom. Yes; "whilst we were yet sinners Christ died for us." The ransom price is paid — God has accepted it, even the precious blood of Christ; for God hath raised Him from the dead, and sends a free discharge to every sinner that believeth. And now, sergeant, how long would it take you to unfasten the handcuffs of this poor man? (Here the sergeant took out a little key, and shewed me how soon it could be done.) That little key is like faith. Yes, even so soon; the soul that believes God's testimony, that on the cross, the ransom has been paid — that through Jesus is preached the forgiveness of sins — that by Him all that believe are justified — yes, even so soon, that soul is free. The chains of sin and condemnation are broken for ever. Now, sergeant, which is the worst sin? — that which brought the guilt and condemnation, and which is hurrying man to judgment and to everlasting destruction; or, that cruel sin of rejecting and despising the wondrous love of God in giving His only-begotten Son? Yes, rejecting the only ransom, even the blood of the Son of God?" The sergeant seemed never before to have heard these "words of life." And oh, how comforting it was to my heart, to see the face of that poor deserter brighten up with joy! The Lord opened his ear at least, to hear the gospel of the grace of God. Reader, are you still a bond-slave of Satan, hurrying on to hell? Let me ask you, Who can deliver you but Christ? The handcuffed prisoner could not deliver himself. I asked him what he could do. Ah, he could scarcely get his hand to his eyes to wipe off the tears. I asked the sergeant what he would think of a would-be officer who should deny the sufficiency of that ransom which had been accepted by the Queen, and should begin to speak thus — "Ah, true, it was a great price; but do not believe the Queen will discharge you, without you do something, to increase the value of that ransom, and when you have done all that you can you may merely hope for liberty. Do not be so presumptuous as to believe that message of the Queen." The sergeant could not endure even the thought of such cruel lies.

Ah, this reminds one of Paul, who said, Let such perverters of the gospel be accursed. It was with this loyal zeal for God he wrote the Epistle to the Galatians. And is not this the great lie of the day? You are virtually told not to believe the all-sufficiency of the finished work of Christ, though God Himself has accepted the ransom, and proved this by raising Him who offered it from the dead. These wolves in sheep's clothing tell you that God will not pardon your sins for Christ's sake only; that He will not give you a free discharge from the power of sin and Satan, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ alone. Oh flee! flee from such dreaming liars! "Do the best you can"! — best, eh! — when there is no best in a handcuffed sinner. "Keep the law!" — when God Himself says, If that were possible, Christ has died in vain. Away with such lies! Turn to the word of God. Read Romans 3; 1 John 4; Hebrews 10. Believe the testimony of God to the value of the blood of Christ. He is sincere. It is true that he that believeth on the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved.

But you ask, Are there to be no good works? Oh yes! But are the handcuffs on or off? — that is the question. The soul that has really been delivered from the power of Satan, will never forget its liberation. "We love him, because he first loved us." "God is love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him." Believe, then; believe and live.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 3

"Smashed to pieces"

I had left Birmingham for Derby, in company with a friend, and after we had travelled some distance, he gave away a few tracts. I observed an old man reading the one given to him with very marked attention. Though a working man, his wrinkled forehead and careworn face bore marks of mental anguish, of no ordinary character. I felt a strong desire to speak to the old man, but could not make a beginning. I mentally offered a short prayer; it was this, — "Lord, if it be Thy will that I should speak to this man, cause him to speak to me first." I sat still a few minutes, when he put up his finger for me. I went and sat by him. He said, "I want to speak to you." (If the reader does not know what prayer is, he will perhaps wonder at this.) I looked at his anxious face, as he said, "When I was a young man, I read Thomas Paine, Voltaire, and many such; and their writing suited me well then, for I liked to have my full fling in sin; and I had it, both here and far away, across the seas. I travelled both on the continent, and also in South America; and what scenes have I been in! But now" (pointing to his grey hair), "oh, this remorse! it smashes me to pieces." I shall never forget the look with which these words were spoken. Oh, my soul! thought I, how much like hell is the anguish of remorse. Almost before I could speak, he went on to say, "I think the deceitful ways of professors make more infidels than all the writings that infidels themselves have written." "Well," I said, "if it were not for an old book I have in my pocket, which tells all about that, I should be staggered myself." "Indeed," said he; "what book is that?" "Oh," said I, "it is the Bible; and there is not an evil in the professing church which was not plainly foretold. But you have looked long enough at man; there is nothing in him to heal your broken, smashed heart; I want you to look at another object and that object is God. You will find no deceit in Him; indeed all is sincere love. I don't ask you to do this or that to get to God, but I want, to tell you, smashed under sin and guilt as you are, what God has done to get to you. I want to tell you what He is, and what He has done, as displayed through the cross of Christ. The love that is seen there is all sincere, and it is all the work of God. Man put Christ to death, but God so loved. Yes, it is the cross of Christ alone that heals the broken heart. It has been truly said, that to heal the broken heart, Christ's own heart must be broken first. It was broken. He died for us, 'the just for the unjust, to bring us to God.'" I pointed out the difference between our having to seek and to serve God, in order to be saved, and God's having sent His Son to seek and to save that which was lost. I told him the following anecdote to illustrate this most important difference: — A man I knew, in Derbyshire, was walking in a dangerous mine, with a candle in his hand, when a drop of water from the roof fell upon his candle, and put out the light. The mine was a very dangerous place, and he, alone and without light, could not find his way out. He remained a long time in this dreary condition, until he became greatly alarmed; indeed, such was the effect on his mind, that he was in danger of losing his reason. Whilst in this state, he thought he saw the glimmering of a light. It was a light; he fixed his eyes on that light; it came nearer and nearer, until at last he saw the face of his own brother, who had come to seek him. His friends having become alarmed on account of his long absence, his brother had descended into this pit of darkness to seek and to save him that was lost. "Mind you," said I, "he did not stand at the pit's mouth calling out, that if his lost brother would but come out of that pit of darkness, he would then save him, as many falsely represent Christ as doing. No; he came to the very place where that brother was, and who needed his help." I said to the old man, "You are in the dark pit of sin and death; your candle of youth has been put out; you are beginning to feel something of the fearful solitude; alone without God. Do you catch a glimmering of the light in the face of Jesus Christ? Fix your eye there. The light will come nearer and nearer, till it shews you, in that blessed One, the face of a Saviour, who does not tell you to come out of the pit first to save yourself, and that then, when you do not need saying, He will save you. Oh, no, He knew we were too far lost for that. He descended into the very pit of sin and death; He bore sin's curse and condemnation, that there might be none for us; and He alone can, and does, deliver from sin's power. He comes to you in the pit; give Him your hand, He will lead you to eternal day."

There was power in the name of Jesus; a change passed over the old man's countenance; the raging storm was calming down; the goodness of God was leading him to repentance. He had never thus seen God manifest in the flesh, as the God of love. He had long been trying to get out of the pit, like many others, but had never before seen Jesus coming into it to save him. Our conversation was suddenly stopped — we parted at Derby. I trust we shall meet again at the great and glorious terminus — the coming of the Lord.

Well, reader, what say you to these things? Have you been "smashed to pieces?" Have you felt the bitter sting of remorse? Judas felt that. But I will ask another question, Have you ever felt the power of the love of Christ? Judas felt the one — Peter felt both. You may be saying, "I am too bad to be saved; I have tried so often; and oh, my sins! If I could but undo what I have done!" Were you not saying this to yourself the other day? You can never return to innocence. You can never have peace, but through the blood of Christ. If you could be ever so good to the end of life, still those past sins come as fresh as ever before you; and, as the old man said, "The older we get, the heavier they become." Ah, this will be true in hell for ever. Oh, let me tell you, there is no relief but by locking at the blood of Christ; this only gives me relief; my sins were laid on Him; they have broken His heart. But you say you have tried so often. How have you tried? Have you tried to prove yourself better than God's word says you are? Or, have you tried to get out of the pit, and cannot? God well knows you cannot. If you could have been saved in your way, Christ need not have died. You have tried and failed. Christ did not fail. He finished the work of redemption. This is most certain, for God raised Him from the dead. Forgiveness of sins is preached in His name, and by Him all that believe are justified from all things. (Acts 13:38, 39; Rom. 5:1.) My friend, this is a great salvation, it is worthy of all acceptation, yes, of your acceptation, "that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief." Now, you trust Him, and see if it cannot be done; nay, if you trust Him, it is done. "He that believeth hath everlasting life." "We have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins." Reader, dost thou believe on the Son of God? Having no confidence in thyself, praise Him for all that is past, trust Him for all that is to come. He says, "Sin shall not have dominion over you." There may be falterings and faintings, but faith, that has done with self, and takes hold only on Christ, shall overcome to the very end.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 4

The Lost Ticket: or is your Life insured?

The London train was just about to leave the Exeter platform, when a lady exclaimed, "I have lost my ticket." Her concern became so great, that guards and passengers searched the train, but the ticket could not be found. After the confusion had subsided, I said to my fellow passengers, "Is it not very strange that there should be such anxiety about this ticket, which is but the passport of a day, and may soon be forgotten, while so many have no concern whatever about the journey of life, or whether they have a ticket that will pass them into heaven at last? You may see a man get his insurance ticket, post it to his friends, and look as if he had done a very prudent act." "Is it not," I said again, "strange that man should be so prudent and thoughtful for present things, and yet not care to have eternal life insured? Oh, that there were the same desire to have the passport of salvation, and to know it." A man in the next compartment stood up, and said, "Will you have the kindness to tell me how a person is to have eternal life insured, and how he is to know it with certainty; in other words, what is his ticket for heaven, and how is he to know when he has got it?" It was evident from the man's manner, that he felt the question to be of the utmost importance. I said, "We will take the case of a life insurance for illustration: — A man insures his life in a certain office; he believes the large figures, stating the amount of capital paid up, to be real; the policy is deposited in the safe keeping of his banker, lest he should lose it himself. Now, I ask, how does he know for certain that his life is, as it is called, 'insured?'" "Oh," said the man, "he cannot doubt it, if he have confidence in the company, and in his bankers." "Very well, to carry out the figure — when I look to God for salvation, I am assured that the capital has all been paid up. Neither gold nor silver, words nor figures, can express the priceless value of the precious blood of Christ: — and, mind you, the Cross was no instalment, leaving future calls to be met by sinful man. Oh, no! — all was paid. The price of redemption was paid to the full, and paid for ever." "But what is the life policy, and how am I to know that I have it?" "Christ risen from the dead is the life policy. God has shown His full and eternal satisfaction and joy by raising that Blessed One from the dead, and exalting Him to the highest glory. Now, as Christ thus died for our iniquities, His being raised again, declared that His death had put away our sins. Yes, His resurrection was as really for our justification, as His death was for our sins. Unless the question of sin is seen to be for over settled by Christ for us, we never can have full assurance of faith, as to final salvation. Christ having finished the great work of atonement, and having ascended up on high, the Holy Ghost came down from heaven, with the glad tidings of salvation, through the blood of Christ, and of eternal life, in Him who is alive from the dead. All who have, through grace, believed this testimony, have been saved. The illustration then holds good; just as when the capital of an insurance company is real, and a life policy deposited in safe keeping, where it can neither be lost nor stolen, even so the believer knows by faith in God's word, that the atonement for sin has been made; and that Christ is his life policy; for 'He is our life;' — 'he that hath the Son hath life.' He is at God's right hand for us, where we can neither lose Him, nor can aught possibly take Him away. Faith says, 'because He lives, we shall live also.' Christ alive from the dead — raised to glory — is the believer's life policy, — his passport to heaven. If my salvation were in my own keeping, I should be sure to lose it. 'Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Yes, this simple heart confidence in God removes every doubt. The love of God is shed abroad in the heart, and the Spirit bears witness that I am a child of God." "This seems very clear," said the man; "but will you allow me to state a difficulty I have had for many years?" "Oh, certainly." "Well, sir, it is this: — I read in the Epistle to the Romans, that 'justification is entirely through Christ, by faith, without the works of the law,' and this hath given me comfort, but then, I read in James, 'Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only.' Now, sir, this has perplexed me for many years." "At first sight," said I, "there seems a contradiction, but it is only in appearance. In Romans the great question of justification before God is discussed; and before Him nothing short of absolute perfection can stand; and hence, Christ alone being perfect, we can only be justified by and in Him. But in James it is, justification before men: 'Ye see brethren;' and men can only judge by works. Abraham was justified before God by faith, at the birth of Isaac; but he was justified by works before men thirty years after, when he offered him up. True faith is sure to work by love, and is sure to produce fruits. If you believe the kindness of a person to you in your need, you are sure to be affected by it. We love God because He first loved us. But where so many make a fatal mistake is, in the vain attempt to produce work before justification. When you see your neighbour's chimney smoke in a morning, what do you think? Why, that the fire has been kindled. There is sure to be smoke if the fire is applied — but you don't make smoke first. One person might speak of the kindling of the fire within; another might speak of the smoke seen without. There would be a great difference — but no contradiction. The Spirit of God, by Paul, speaks of the kindling of eternal life within; by James, He speaks of its manifestation without; surely both are true. You put the seed in the earth, and with God's blessing you expect the plant, and then the fruit. If salvation were by works, then could none be saved." The man left the train with an expression of real thankfulness; his last words were, "I hope to tell to others the gospel I have heard this day — Salvation first, and works after." Reader! is your life insured in heaven? Can you look by faith at Christ Jesus, in the presence of God, and say, He is my righteousness, my passport. He has taken possession of heaven for me? Does Christ dwell in your heart the hope of glory? Or, are you gliding along the rails of life without a ticket? You may be a professor; you may be trying by self-righteousness to buy a ticket, and hope some day to get one — that is, to be saved. It won't do. If God deals with you on that ground, you are lost. However you may deny the death of Christ, God never can. No, no, He will not sell you the ticket. It must be a free gift. The gift of God is eternal life, even Christ, — God's greatest gift of love."God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. These things have I written unto you, that ye may know that ye have eternal life." (1 John 5:11-13.) The New Testament is full of this assurance of salvation. It is no use saying, you are doing the best you can. What I do you mean you are doing the best you can whilst seeking to be saved in some other way than by God's free gift to lost sinners? — eternal salvation, in, through, and by Christ? Oh, but you say, "my frames and feelings." Ah, you will never be saved by looking at frames and feelings. Look away from your feelings — simply to Christ. A person does not say, "I feel nice and happy — so it's all right — I dare say I have my ticket." No; he first finds his ticket, and then feels happy. So, my reader, may you never rest till you have found Christ to be the all-sufficient passport to the haven of eternal rest.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 5

"Just in Time"

Sometimes God is pleased to use a few words in the awakening of a soul. Such was the case some years ago, in the following remarkable manner. The porters at the Sheffield station had cried, "Take your seats for Derby and the South," when I observed a man making the utmost exertion to reach the train before it started. It was a struggle. "All right!" shouted the guard. The driver answered with a whistle. The train moved. The man was just in time. He took his seat by my side; smack went the door. I said, "And the door shall be shut." I do not remember that another word passed between us. Two years afterwards, when I had quite forgotten the circumstance, a friend of mine met with the same man, who told him that those words, "And the door shall be shut," produced such a solemn impression on his mind, that he could not, by any means, forget them. When he awoke in the morning, and all day long, they sounded in his ears. The madness and danger of delaying his salvation to the last moment became so evident, that he believed that circumstance had been used of God in bringing him to Christ.

Reader, those are, indeed, solemn words, in that prophetic parable of the ten virgins, "And the door was shut." The gospel train is fast filling; the last person will soon be in it; and then, can you tell what you would feel, not to be just in time, but just too late? Would you like to be one who shall cry, "Lord, Lord, open unto us?" when the only answer will be, "Depart from me, ye that work iniquity; I know you not."

Hark you, the gospel porters cry "Take your seats." But you say, "I have not paid my fare; and worse still, I cannot pay it." Do you really own this to be true? Have you tried to pay your fare to heaven by good works, and do you own that you are still a vile and worthless sinner? Whether you say so or not, God says so: "The scripture hath concluded all under sin." Yes, you stand at the station, and though the price required is immense to pass you from the kingdom and power of Satan to God, yet, strange as it may seem, those only can take their seats, who have nothing of their own to pay. The full price has been paid, even the precious blood of Christ. That which many a poor soul wants to be done, has been done. "It is finished!" Yes, the full fare has been paid. Ask God Himself, if the death of Christ for your sins is not enough to justify you in taking your seat, and enough to justify Him in receiving you to glory? The resurrection of Christ is God's answer to both these questions. If God gave Jesus to die for our sins, and thus to pay the fare in the giving up of His own life, God also raised Him from the dead for our very justification. Take your seat, then, and who shall condemn you? "It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God; who also maketh intercession for us." Take your seat, rest in the finished work of Christ. Who dare, or can, take us out of God's train of grace? "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" But you say, "This is very strange; a porter told me that I had to do much by prayer and amendment of life, and by deep repentance, before ever I could take my seat in God's train. I have been trying for years, but I do not know how much would satisfy God for my fare. I never before heard that it was all done, and that my ticket must be a free gift, because my fare has been paid, even the blood of God's Son." The porter that told you this story of works for salvation belongs to another company, and you will not find a passenger in his train who knows his fare is paid for heaven. I was once on that line myself, but I never was happy. I found it all tunnel, and we had no light in our carriage, and then it was down-hill, and so fast, and all uncertainty as to where we were going, that I do thank God for stopping the train, and making known to me His free grace. But you say, "There must be repentance." Yes, and what repentance is like that change of mind when a person believes the testimony of God — to the death and resurrection of Christ — that is, that all who believe are justified from all things? And you say, "There must be a forsaking of sin and the world." True, but I never saw a person get faster away from the place, than by taking his seat in a train. Would you really give up sin and the world? Then believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and, without money and without price, take your seat in a finished salvation. Do you want to be fifty miles from a given place in two hours? The power of steam can take you; you quietly trust this power; the train takes you. It is not you who take the train. Ah! men can trust anything but God! you want to be far away from sin, then take your seat, believing the death of Christ has paid your fare, and the mighty power of God shall bear you onward far away.

The devil has many lines, all of which lead to hell. There is only one to heaven. Jesus alone is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. You may say, "Do not bother me. I will not travel on any line." In that you are greatly mistaken. Travel you must. Every day is a day nearer heaven or hell. Look at the crowd about you; and let me ask, where is the crowd that thronged this world a hundred years ago? But hark again! there is one speaks from heaven: "Behold, I come quickly!" His words are fast fulfilling. The professing church is as He said it would be: "While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept." Some are saying, "We will not believe He is coming." Others, "We will not have Him to reign over us." Few, very few, are waiting for the Son of God from heaven. But the word of God assures us, He will suddenly come, and take the world with as great a surprise as the flood in the days of Noah, or the destroying fire of God, that fell when the sun had arisen on Sodom.

Men may laugh now, as men laughed then; and scorners may say, "Where is the promise of his coming?" But, after years of prayerful searching of the scriptures, I take God at His word; and tell you plainly that "they that are ready shall go in, and the door shall be shut." And how soon no one knows. "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord." What an event!

Ah, reader! are you ready? Can you say, "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly?" You tremble at the thought. Your sins! Ah! you could not bear to meet the Lord with them unpardoned. Oh! bring them at once to the cross. None over sought forgiveness and were denied. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." There are thousands of professors whose lamps are gone out, or going out, and who have no oil in their vessels. Think of the midnight cry! awake from that fatal slumber! Fellow believer, go to Christ for oil. Trim your lamp; gird up your loins; be like one that waits for your Lord. "For yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry." And then, farewell, poor world of sorrow, sin, and death: welcome, bright eternal joy! for ever with the Lord!

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 6

"Conversation;" or "The Commercial's Way to be Saved"

There are few opportunities so favourable for candid conversation as railway travelling; and though a commercial traveller myself, I think I may be allowed to say, there are few persons better qualified than commercial travellers for sustaining intelligent conversation. A short time ago I was travelling with two, who for intellectual ability might not be surpassed by any on the road. I felt an anxious desire to know what were their thoughts on that most important of all subjects, the salvation of the soul.

In course of conversation, I inquired of one of them, "How do you really think a man is to be saved?" He replied, "No doubt the man who keeps the ten commandments is a happy man, and I believe that is the way to be saved." His fellow-traveller remarked, "I did think so, but I heard Dr. Some-one, of Leeds, preach a sermon which convinced me that it was only necessary to keep the last six." This was said in all seriousness. I replied, "I will not say ten, nor six; but now, if one had to be kept for salvation, tell me who could be saved? If Adam, happy in innocence, did not keep one, but fell, would it not be a fearful thing for us, fallen in sin, and surrounded by innumerable temptations, as we are, to have our eternal salvation to depend on our perfect obedience even to one command? No! my friends, redemption through the blood of Christ is a very different thing from our trying to keep the commandments. We must have redemption first through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of sins; and obedience will come after. Not the obedience of law-keeping for salvation. That is impossible when you have got it first. It would be utterly impossible to be in this carriage, and at the same time have something to do to get in. Just as impossible is it to receive Christ as my salvation, and yet have to keep the law to get saved." "I never saw it in that light," said my friend opposite.

Well now, reader, of course I do not know your religious sentiments, but, ten to one, you are on the same ground as the commercial. If I were to ask ten persons in any carriage the same question, very probably nine of them would have some indistinct thought, that it is something we have to do for God which will save us, and that if we do it worthily we shall be saved. And if one out of the ten were to say, "Oh! no, it is what Christ has done for me that has saved me," I should be glad to hear even one out of ten give the glory to Christ. Well, now, is it not a miserable thing to be tormented with uncertainty year after year? and not only uncertainty, but often the person who tries most to keep the commands, feels more keenly the gnawing of conscience, and the burthen of sin. Yes, no words can describe the anguish of heart that some feel who are thus trying to get saved by keeping the law. Oh, the weight of guilt! The law can give you no relief. It can only curse you. For "as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." (Gal. 3:10) And you know well that you cannot continue in them. Again and again you have tried, but all in vain. You cannot even be what you wish to be, much more what the holy law of God requires. But you hope to be better yet. You hoped that long ago; but still you are rather worse than better. Some try to get saved this way, until, tired out, they give all up in despair, plunge headlong into sin, and perish in infidelity. There are few infidels but who were made so by false religion. Just as salvation by works is preached, infidelity increases, until, as in popish countries, you can hardly tell which is which. Is it not a solemn thing, that so few, even in England, know the difference between the saving gospel and the cursing law? Well, you say, "If man cannot keep the law, why was it given?" It was given because of transgression, that sin might be manifested, that every mouth might be stopped, and all the world proved guilty before God. (See Rom. 3; Gal. 3.) But the gospel sets Christ before us sent down from heaven. God having concluded all under sin, He now brings Christ, and sets Him forth, the righteousness of God. This holy Jesus became the substitute for sinners; and now it is not they who must do something to live; but He must die that they may live: and He has died for our sins according to the scriptures, God declaring His acceptance of that sacrifice for our sins by raising Him from the dead. Mark, this is not a question of men's opinions, but the very righteousness of God is at stake: the word of God puts it so. (Rom. 3:21-28.) "Whom God has set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins," &c. Yes, the death of Christ is God's own remedy for my sins; to deny it or doubt it is to make God a liar. Dare you say God is not just, and the justifier of him that believeth? How is it, with the record of God in our hands, as given by the Holy Ghost through the preaching of the apostles and in all the epistles, that believers are saved entirely by grace through Christ Jesus, and not by works of their own: I say, is it not marvellous that men will not believe God Himself?

Reader, was this not an instance of the truth of that statement of the word of God, "Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?" Just think of two commercial travellers, bright, intelligent men, but as ignorant of God's way of saving sinners as any Jew or Mahomedan on the face of the earth. The commercial's way to be saved, by keeping the law for salvation, is the thought of every unconverted person, however ignorant, or however learned. It is the professed doctrine of the millions of the Greek and Romish churches. In principle it is the same with every shade of heathenism, something that man can do to satisfy the god or gods of his own choice. Some wonder that so many are going over to Romanism. The wonder is that all who are on the ground of works for salvation do not go over to it. No doubt this will be the case, or worse. (See 2 Thess. 2:11.) But though hell and earth have so long, and in every variety of way, tried to extinguish the light of the gospel, it is still the power of God to salvation to every one that believeth.

Reader, if you do not care for your poor soul's salvation, then throw my paper away; say plainly you will have sin and hell. Are you really concerned? Have you long desired to be saved? What has hindered you? Two things. First, you have not believed God's testimony about yourself, and secondly, you have not believed God's testimony about Christ. As to yourself, you do not really believe that you are utterly ruined by sin. If you did, you would see at once the folly of trying, as you try, to mend yourself. That which is partly ruined may be mended. If your hat fell into the water and was injured, it might be restored; but, if ruined, it is past mending. Sin has not merely injured man, but ruined him. But now as to the second — God's testimony of Christ. God Himself has accepted the mighty ransom — God Himself has raised Him from the dead. God Himself declares that all who believe on Him are justified from all things. Ponder these words: "If righteousness come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain." Every attempt to keep the law for righteousness is an attempt to prove that Christ died in vain — that you are not so ruined, and do not need such a gift as Christ. Certain it is, without righteousness you cannot enter heaven; you have none of your own. If you do not receive God's righteousness as a free gift, even Christ, what on earth or in heaven can save you? Oh, fellow-believer, what wondrous love was that "made sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him."

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 7

"What a Contrast"

We had been delayed a considerable time one morning at a station a little north of Derby, when several of the passengers on the platform became exceedingly impatient. I made a remark to the following effect. It was much better quietly to bear what we could not alter. And some could even thankfully do so, believing what the scripture said, "that all things work together for good to them that love God." Surely it would be better to wait on the platform than be killed on the line: every passenger might not be quite ready to quit this life. An old countryman came up to me, and told me the following circumstance. He said, "A few days ago I was walking across a field with an old friend of mine, our village blacksmith; and though a blacksmith, he felt so much of the love of Christ, that he would frequently be found visiting the sick and dying, and pointing them to Christ: and not only them, but he would often call to see Christians, and was very useful to those who were of a doubting sort. He would show them it was not their feelings or their doings that would save them, but that Christ was all. Well, we two were walking over the fields. Now he was of a tender turn of mind, which grieved much over the state of the world and the church. As we were walking he became sorely depressed at the thought of so much division and carnal strife amongst Christians. Suddenly he stopped, looked up with such a gaze at heaven, his face beaming with joy, and said, 'Oh, what a contrast! there Christ is all.' His face became brighter, his eyes fixed, as though looking at Christ in heaven; his body gently lowered on the grass, the pale shadow of death passed over his face, the spirit departed to be with Christ."

I need not say I was thankful for the delay. I felt that it had worked together for my soul's good. The departure of this honoured pastor had given a reality to eternal things, which produced such a thrill in my soul that I can never forget. Yes, I call him the honoured pastor, for He who called the fisherman of Galilee, called also the blacksmith of Derbyshire, to feed His sheep. The Holy Ghost alone can teach and convince of the sublime truth contained in those few words, "It is not your feelings or your doings that can save you. Christ is all." Are you mourning over sin, and longing for assured forgiveness? Christ is all! "To him give all the prophets witness, that through his name whosoever believeth in him shall have remission of sins." Do you want peace with God? Christ is all! "Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." Do you want righteousness? Christ is all! "For he hath made him sin for us, who knew no sin that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." Do you want to be sanctified? Christ is all! "By the which will we are sanctified, through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once." Do you want to be kept from sin and Satan? Christ is all! "Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them." Do you want to be certain, unworthy as you are, that you are an accepted person with a holy God? Christ is all! "Having, therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus." Now what can you want more? "Oh," says the trembling believer, "I want to be quite sure that I shall be with him at last." Christ is all! "We know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is." (1 John 3:2.) If you look at your feelings and your doings for salvation, it is like a person trying to climb a steep mountain of sand — every effort slides him lower. Our poor feelings and our doings are as unstable and shifting as the sand: there is nothing in either for faith to lay hold of. But when faith, looking away from our feelings and doings, takes fast hold of Christ, we are at once on the Rock of Ages. This is the difference between saving faith and all mere spurious faith, which really is only unbelief. If you have obtained the precious faith of God, you look at Christ. If false faith, you axe looking at yourself, your feelings and your doings.

The departure of this servant of Christ reminds one of the death of Stephen. A glorified Christ in heaven was the object of faith to each of them. Neither of them had a single hope below. Christ, rejected on earth, glorified in heaven! What a contrast! Yes, the rejection or acceptance of Christ makes this immense difference. It is quite true that all the wretchedness and misery of this world came by sin, but it is the rejection of Christ that is the cause of its continuance. You see the wretched drunkard, reeling from the alehouse, led by a thin, pale-faced, half-starved child, its mother having sunk in the grave, slowly murdered by him who called himself a father and a husband. Ah, poor drunkard, drunk or sober, the cause of all thy misery is this — thou art a rejecter of Christ. Christ in thy family would have turned a hell into heaven. Look where you will on earth, it is a Christ-rejecting world. For eighteen hundred years has Christ been rejected by the succeeding generations of men. [Written in the XIXth century.] The few who through grace have received Him have all been hated by the world, and many of them persecuted to death. You may have as much of the world's false religion as you please, and the world will praise you. But if Christ is your all, the world will hate you, even as it hated Him. When Jesus looked upon the city of the Pharisees, he wept. The sectary may fight and wrangle, and stamp and storm; but, like the blacksmith, the true Christian, when he looks at the masses of rejecters around him, will not fight, but weeping, seek to save. And what grieved him most was, that much which calls itself the church dishonours Christ quite as much as the world. What deceit, what covetousness, what selfishness, hatred, malice, cruelty, and oppression. But enough! Look up. Oh, what a contrast in heaven! Jesus is all and in all. No rejecters there! No deceivers there! No sting of sin is felt there! No drunkard walks the golden streets! No liar there! No slave-driver there! No sorrow, no pain, not a sigh, a groan, nor a tear there! God is there, and in His presence there is fulness of joy; at His right hand pleasures for evermore. There is a moment fast approaching when all who are Christ's shall be taken, not from the body, as was the dying blacksmith, but when "we who are alive and remain shall be caught up." Yes, "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye." Our vile body shall be changed and fashioned like unto the glorious body of Christ. Reader, this is my blessed hope. What is yours? It is not that I am better than you, and therefore worthy of such a place. Oh, no! I am a sinner — the very chief of sinners; but Christ is my all. Do you ask, "What can fit me for that happy, holy place?" My answer — nay, God's answer — is, Christ alone. Yes, it is the unquestionable privilege of all believers to "give thanks unto the Father, who hath made them meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light," &c. (Col. 1:12-14), "and ye are complete in Christ." Believer, this is all true, whether you enjoy it or not. The more you walk with God in the light, the more you will enjoy it. Remember, it is not your feelings or your works. Christ is all!

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 8

"Progress"

I was travelling on the Birmingham and Derby line some time ago, when a gentleman was speaking, with evident satisfaction, on the wonderful improvement and rapid progress of society. I quietly listened as he boasted of the development of man. At last I said, "You seem to have overlooked one thing." "And what is that, sir?" he said. I replied, "Why, sir, it is this: you forget that this world has yet to answer for the murder and rejection of the Son of God. That is the end of this world's progress." The man appeared struck with surprise, and I thought alarm. I showed him that however man may dream of this world's gradual improvement, God's word speaks out without mistake. Christ distinctly foretold that He would be rejected. (Luke 22:25-30.) For eighteen hundred years this world has treated the mercy of God, in giving Christ, with contempt. I asked him if he thought God would bear this for ever? But my question was quite outside his philosophy. Finite reason knows nothing of the infinite God, but what He Himself reveals. What a revolution took place in that man's thoughts in a moment! He said, "I never thought in that way about the death of Christ." This reminds me of a question a young man once asked me; it was this: "If God knew for certain that men would reject Christ, where was the use in sending the gospel?" "Well," I said, "I will answer by an illustration. Suppose some nation — say America — were to murder the British ambassador; of course that would at once cut off all relations with England. Well, there would be one of two things for it — immediate judgment, or forbearing mercy. England would be just in demanding instant satisfaction. But now, instead of that, though England might well know that such was the inveterate hatred of that nation which had deliberately murdered her ambassador, that the offer of pardon would be rejected with disdain; — yet would there be no meaning, no use, if, instead of demanding immediate satisfaction, she sent the most conciliatory message of reconciliation? Yes, England's character would be manifest to the whole world; and when she ever did proceed to extremities, still her clemency would be acknowledged by all." "Oh," said the young man, "I see the point; the character of God is manifested." "Just so," said I. "And, oh, think of the person of Christ, the Son of God, heaven's ambassador! and is it not even so that men by wicked hands have murdered Him? And God did know that such was man's hatred, that he would reject Him. Yes, and having murdered and rejected Him, talks of progress. God knew it all, and most certainly all relations with God are cut off by the murder of Jesus. It is impossible for God to talk to men about keeping His law that are murderers of His Son. No, no, the whole world stands guilty before God. Surely man cannot be more guilty than the murder and rejection of Christ proves him to be. But, oh! the wonder of all wonders, God did not proceed at once to righteous judgment, but infinite love and grace burst through the very wounds of Christ, and God speaks peace and pardon to black vile man through the very blood of His murdered Son. Yes, He knows man will reject oven this mercy; yes, all men. But out of these very rejecters God is, by the power of the Holy Ghost through the gospel, gathering His church. And is He not glorified in that very world that still rejects Him? Yes! yes! Oh, the longsuffering forbearance, the grace that still beseeches men to be reconciled to God." "Ah!" said the young man, "I never saw how God would be thus glorified in all His ways."

Now, reader, what think you? Just look for a moment at the world, filled with wickedness and violence. Oh! what a scene! and if you look at what bears the name of Christian — nay, it will not bear looking at — I say, do you think God will bear this for ever? He bore long in the days of Noah. But did not the judgment come at last? He bore long with Sodom and Gomorrah, and men made progress; but at last God rained fire and brimstone. Has not Jesus said, "Even thus shall it be when the Son of man cometh?" Why did He say that that day should come as a thief in the night? Why does the scripture say that this solemn event shall come at a time when men are saying, "Peace and safety?" Ah! He well knew that men would believe a lie — yes, that lie of Satan, when he persuades men to say, "The Lord delayeth his coming;" and therefore the word of God, is full of warnings, lest that day should take any of us unawares. The only progress that the scripture reveals is that of increasing iniquity. (See 2 Thess. 2:7, 8; 2 Tim. 3, &c.)

But you ask, "Do not you believe the world will be converted by the preaching of the gospel?" Oh, no, reader, I do not indeed. I just believe what the word of God says, that the world will become so wicked, and the professing church so corrupt, that Christ will come again in judgment. Having first taken up the real church, that is, all the true members of Christ, wherever found, living or sleeping, then that great day of the wrath and vengeance of Almighty God will come. I do believe all that scripture says, too, about the happy state of this earth during the millennium, after Christ has come in judgment.

A preacher, who had long preached the conversion of the world by the gospel, said to me the other day, that nothing had surprised him so much as to find there was not a single passage in the whole Bible to prove that doctrine.

But come, it is time for me to ask you a plain question or two.

Are you ready to meet Christ? Your heart may be set on something. What will that something be worth when Christ appears? The Jews preferred a robber to Christ. Is there some secret sin, pleasure, money, or the world that you prefer to Christ? Oh! my reader, is it possible, are you a wicked rejecter of Christ? If so, the coming of Christ is a terrible day to you. And come it will. Oh! let me tell you, vile as man was in crucifying Jesus, God so loved the world that He gave Him — Jesus so loved that He thus died for our sins. Oh, blessed Jesus! Thou art precious! Can you say so? Have you tasted the sweetness of pardoning love? Do you say, that is what my soul longs to know? My friend, if so, God put that desire into your heart, and Jesus says, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." Since Jesus has died for your sins, can anything give God so much joy as pardoning them for His sake? When Jesus, alive from the dead, came into the upper room, His heart was so full of joy, that His first words were, "Peace be unto you." What joy Christ has in speaking; may you have joy in hearing those words of life, "Peace be unto you; and he showed them his hands and his side." This is enough for God, and you need no more. By grace ye are saved. My fellow-believer, what a day awaits us — what a change — to be with Jesus, to see Him as He is, and to be like Him! Even so, come Lord Jesus!

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 9

"An Interesting Question"

"What do you think you have to do to get your sins forgiven?" I have very often put this question to my fellow-passengers, and I nearly always get in substance the same answer. I was travelling the other day with a farm servant, on my way to London, when the following short conversation took place. "Well," I said, "I suppose you have some desire at times to be saved?" "Yes, sir, I have at times." "Then you would not like the thought of being lost for ever — would you?" "I should not," was the reply. "No; however light a man may make of it in health, it is a sad sight to see a man die with the terror of hell upon him. Well, now, what do you think you have to do to get your sins forgiven?" The young man replied, "To give them up." "That is a very common answer," said I, "and at first sight seems a very true one: but then you have tried to give them up, and you have found you could not; and you have tried again, and again you could not give up sin." "When did I try?" "Oh, often: when you were ploughing or driving your horses, have you not wished you could give up all sin, and be a saved man?" "Yes, it's true."

Reader, is it not true that you too have wished and tried, and wished and tried in vain? How is it, think you? It is the most serious question that can occupy your thoughts — Are you quite sure that this trying to give up sin, this making resolutions and breaking them, until you almost despair of ever getting saved — are you quite sure that this is God's way of saving a sinner? You may have given up some sin or sins; but still the fountain, your very heart, is corrupt, and out of it still flows the most hateful sin; for if one channel has been stopped, it finds another; and you are hasting on to eternity, and still not saved. I ask, Are your sins pardoned? Your conscience answers, No! Are you justified? No! Are you prepared to meet God? No! Are you certain to be with God in heaven? No! You may have every earthly comfort, but to-morrow you die — without hope! Fearful, fearful state! What will it profit you to gain the whole world, and lose your own soul?

But I think I hear you saying, "What can you mean? Is not this the gospel of God, 'If the wicked turn from his wickedness, and do that which is lawful and right, he shall live thereby?'" No, my friend, that is not the gospel at all. It is the law, by the which if a man can be saved, Christ died in vain. Do you say, "What then must I do? Can I go to heaven in my sins?" No, my friend, that you certainly cannot. "There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie." "But the fearful and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death."

How awful the fact that every one of us is described in this verse. Yes, born in this very condition, and held fast prisoners by the devil, the god of this world — so fast that, however you, my reader, may desire to deliver yourself from the power of sin, you cannot. Every effort is utterly vain. I believe that such is the awful dominion that sin has over man, that if all the men in the world, and all the angels in heaven, were to unite to deliver one soul from the power of sin and Satan, they could not do it. I think I hear you saying, "If that's the case, I must have been dreaming. I thought a man could repent at any time, and give up his sins, and then God would forgive him; and so I have not been particularly troubled about it. I have thought there is time enough yet." My reader, if this is your thought, you could not well be under a greater mistake. How awful if you should go on in this fatal delusion until the door is shut, and you are lost! Now, come, try your plan. Try to repent — try to give up all your sins — try to love God with all your heart — try to keep His holy law. The effort, sincerely made, will soon convince you of your hopelessly sinful state; but even if you could succeed in such all effort, there would still be the fearful weight of past sins. No amount of bitter remorse could uncle, or wipe away, one past sin. Judas is a solemn beacon as to this; he tried this way; but he found it the way to hell. Sorrow for sin is but a very small part of true repentance. Your mind must be entirely turned from sin to God. There is but one only way by which this can be done. "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up; that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life." To repent before you believe would be as if the bitten Israelite had to be healed before he looked at the brazen serpent. No, no. Faith in the love of God, as seen in the death of Jesus, alone can produce true repentance. The moment I believe in Jesus, my mind must be changed toward God. If you have been brought to look at Jesus lifted up on the cross, dying for your sins, and now lifted up to the highest glory — if He is your entire trust — you are, and shall be, certainly saved. "For through him is preached the forgiveness of sins; and all that believe are justified from all things." But if you have not looked, and do not thus look, on Jesus lifted up — if you are trusting in anything else — you are as certain, should you die in this state, to perish, as though you were just now in hell.

Do not deceive yourself any longer. If your sins are not pardoned, why should you put on a smiling face, as if you were happy? You are not — you cannot be. Nothing in this world has yet made, nor ever can make, you happy. God so loved the world as to give His beloved Son to die the death of the cross, and what for? To make His very enemies happy for ever. And the world is trying its utmost to be happy without Christ. Is this your case, my follow-passenger? May God in mercy stop you, just now as you read. How little idea you have of the terrible wickedness of your life, if you are thus despising and trampling underfoot the Son of God. Do you ask, "What must I do to get my sins pardoned?" Just what the insurgent troops in India would have to do if a general pardon were proclaimed — believe it.* "The blood of Jesus, Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." "Through him is preached the forgiveness of sins." Believe it — believe it.

* [Written in the XIXth century]

Dear reader, one word, in conclusion, as to the question, "What must I do to get my sins pardoned?" Until you give up those words, "What must I do?" they prove that you have not yet felt the real necessity for the death of Christ. It is not, "What must I do?" but "What has Jesus done?" And what does God say? The believer hears God speak to him in His word: "The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin." "Who was delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification." "Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ."

All! all! has been done! done by the Son of God! "It is finished." Look at the cross. Behold the dying Lamb of God. See what was done by Him, and to Him. All this was done that every poor sinner who believes in Him might have his sins forgiven. Blush, then, to ask, "What must I do?" Instead of vainly trying to do, may you, my reader, by the power of the Holy Ghost, be led to "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 10

"The Explosion"

I was travelling on the South Yorkshire line, on my return from Lund Hill, soon after the fearful explosion there, when a gentleman put the following difficulty. He said, "How is it that a person may try his utmost to escape from sin, and still sin has the mastery, and he, of course, has no peace?" The following illustration may help to explain the difficulty.

On my first visit to Lund Hill Colliery, I called at several houses, and found in each widows and orphans, whose fathers and husbands were shut up in that burning pit; One, woman said, "My husband and two sons are in the pit." In another house I found four women — three had lost their husbands, and the fourth her brother. But when the widows and orphans assembled to hear the gospel, never did I see such a sight of sorrow. Amid such sorrow, there is a power in the name of Jesus that can be found in none other. The last of seventeen persons, who were got out alive before closing the pit, was there. I said to him, "Well, how did you feel as you lay at the bottom of the shaft?" He replied, "Oh, sir, I cannot describe my feelings, as I lay, half dead, suffocating and unable to stand." "Suppose you had heard some one at the top of the shaft shout down, and say, 'I have brought you good news: you must do the best you can to get out;' would that have made you happy?" "Oh no, sir; it would have been of no use at all. Get out? Why I had not strength to stand." "Then, after you had waited three hours and a half in that fearful place of death, how did you feel when those three valiant men descended to the very bottom where you lay, to seek the lost, the dead, the dying?" "Nobody can tell what I felt when the cage was going up for the last time, and I knew that if I was I a not put in it I could never get out; but they did lift me up, and put me in the cage, and I was drawn out at the top."

Here we have an illustration of the two gospels of our day. Man's gospel is, that he must do the best he can to get out of the pit of sin. He thinks his condition is not so bad, but that he can still do something to save himself. The gospel of God is the very contrary of this. The word of God plainly shows man's condition so utterly bad that he cannot help himself. Just as the gas at the bottom of the pit had stupefied the men, and taken away their strength, even so has sin stupefied all men, and taken away their strength. In proof of this, in Romans 5, God's love is commended, in that whilst men were "without strength," "whilst we were sinners," "ungodly," "when we were enemies," God did not send word, we were to do the best we could to get out of this condition. Oh, no! But just as the three men descended to save those poor, lost, dying men in the pit, so did God send His own most glorious Son to save lost sinners. "Yes, when we were without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly." What a striking illustration this is! If you had seen that sight, when more than 200 poor men and boys were all deep down in that pit of fire-damp and death! Every effort was made to save them. It was enough to melt a heart of stone to hear the sobs and cries of the women and children. What an expression of the love of man for his fellow man, when those three men descended, at the risk of their own lives! And have you never read that "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life?" And this was not at the risk of his own life, but with the certainty that nothing but the offering up of that precious life could atone for sin and save the soul. Now it is most certain that if those poor men were not got out they must perish. It was awful when the last man was out, to see the last ray of hope destroyed by the closing the mouth of the burning pit. God is sovereign — seventeen were taken out, and nearly 200 left in. Oh, if this solemn fact were but more thought of — God is sovereign. The whole world lies in darkness, sin, and death. Few are saved; many perish. Reader, are you one of the few, or one of the many? Do not be deceived. Do not think that you need not be alarmed; that when you begin to feel the pit too hot, you will then get out. Do not dream about getting out by ordinances, or by your own self-righteous works. You are too deep down. If you knew your condition, you would cry out this moment, "Lord, save, or I perish." This is a solemn thing, that unless Christ saves you, you must perish.

There was one poor man dreadfully burnt, and when they brought him to the cage, he mistook them for his enemies, and rushed back again to the dark works of the pit. They pursued him again, and caught him, and brought him again to the cage; and now you would have thought him safe; but again he rushed up the dark old works, and perished in the pit. What a lesson for a backslider! It is a sore grief to see a person, that one thought saved, go back again to the dark works of sin and death. Reader, if that is your case, what a fearful looking forward for judgment you have! I need not ask, Are you happy? Sin and happiness are eternal strangers.

But do not despair; if by reading this little paper God shews you your utterly dreadful, lost condition, let me tell you that for eighteen hundred years not a person has ever known his need of Christ, and trusted in Him, but that person has been saved. And if you really know your need, that you are an ungodly sinner, without strength to be better, you are just the one for Christ.

The last thing I would notice, and not the least, is, those who were saved from the pit were saved clean out at the top. They were not drawn half-way up, and then told to do their part; that it all depended on themselves whether they were finally saved. Some are told to work out their salvation, as though that meant that Christ had finished about one half of their salvation, and they had to do the other half. It is a great mistake. God's salvation is clean out at the top. No! no! not drawn half-way out of the pit; but the Christian gives "thanks unto the Father who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son, in whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins." Read that over again, will you?

The man I talked with was out of the pit. He know he was. He did not hope to get out. If he had done so, that would have been a flat denial of the kindness of those who had got him out. They were drawn out together, the deliverer and the delivered. It is so with the believer and Christ. "God hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places, in Christ Jesus." Christ took my place in death for my sins; but God hath raised us up together; so that the believer is as clean out of sin and death as Christ is. My fellow-believer, there is just as much condemnation to Christ now at God's right hand, as there is to you in Him. Read the first and second chapters of the Ephesians, and the fifth and sixth of the Romans, and you will there see that the believer is as clear of sin and condemnation as Christ Himself is clear. O for more faith in the out-and-out salvation of God, through Christ Jesus our Lord.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 11

"I have my Ticket"

I was passing Worcester station the other day, when a young man entered my carriage. As he sat down I took out my ticket, and showed it to him, saying, "Young man, I have my ticket." "Yes, sir," he replied, "I see you have it." I said further, "I do not hope to have it sometime. I have not now to ask for one, or wish I had a ticket; I have it — that is a certainty. Just so, also, I have salvation. I do not hope I may be saved; I have not to ask now to be saved — I have salvation. Through God's unspeakable mercy I am saved." The young man looked with astonishment, and said, "Well, this is very strange: I could have got to Birmingham for about half the fare by the other line; but somehow I could not book that way. Something said I must come by this train, and I felt I must get into this carriage. Now I'll tell you: there is a man works in the same shop with me, and he says the same thing you say. He says he has eternal life; and mind you, he not only says so, but everything he does shows he has. Bless you! he has no fear of death at all; and when he has any trouble, this having eternal life makes him so quiet and happy, that I cannot help feeling that he has got something that I have not, do you see? And no matter how we chaff him at the shop, we cannot touch him, for he has eternal life. He tells us he has found eternal life by reading and believing the Bible. For myself, must tell you, I used to read Tom Paine and Voltaire; but somehow, when I got reading at night, I said, 'Tom Paine, thou canst not give me eternal life;' and I felt so miserable, I banged the book on the floor." As he said these words, he suited the words by action, with great earnestness, and then, putting his hand in his side pocket, he brought out a beautiful edition of a pocket Bible, and said, "I have now got the book that makes known eternal life, but I cannot say that I have eternal life. I want to feel that I have it!" I said to him, "When the clerk laid your ticket on the window-board this morning, did you say I must first feel that I have it before I take it; or did you first take it, and then feel that you had it?" "Oh," he said, "I see now how simple it is. I must first receive salvation, and then I shall feel that I have it."

I dare say many a reader of this paper has the very same difficulty that this person had. Instead of believing the word of God, in His glad tidings of pardon and life through Jesus Christ, you look, and look within, wishful to find some unknown amount of feelings in which you may rest, or at least on which you may base a hope of being saved. Thus you stand at the window, waiting for feeling, and all the while refusing the grace of God. Now what do you want to feel? "Why," perhaps you say, "I must feel very sorry for my sins, and I must feel that I have forsaken them, and I must feel that now I love God. I have often tried to feel all this; but I have always failed. And yet I must feel all this before I can be saved — must I not?" No, my friend, if these feelings were God's conditions of salvation, not one soul would be saved. Now let us look in the New Testament, and see. I cannot find one place where it says, If you feel sorry for your sins you shall be saved. The answer to the jailor's question, "What must I do to be saved?" was not "Be or feel sorry for thy sins, and thou shalt be saved." Nothing of the kind. They pointed him to a very different object than himself or his feelings — even to Jesus. They said,"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." And that same hour "He rejoiced, believing in God with all his house." On another occasion (Acts 8), as Philip preached Jesus to the eunuch, and set forth the great sacrifice for sins, the eunuch, said, "See, here is water, what doth hinder me to be baptized?" Did he reply, If thou feelest sufficiently sorry for thy sins? Was this the condition? Were his feelings needed to add to the atoning value of the blood of Jesus? Oh, no. Nothing but faith was needed to connect him with Jesus, or to warrant his showing forth that union in death and resurrection, by baptism. "If thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest; and he answered and said, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God." He was at once baptized, "and he went on his way rejoicing."

The apostle Paul does not say, "The gospel which I preached unto you, 'by which also ye are saved,' was that you should feel this or that." No, he says, "How that Christ died for our sins, according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day, according to the scriptures."

Now, my reader, if there were no barriers then to exclude the sinner from Christ, why should you put your feelings now as a perpetual hindrance to your receiving Christ as your entire Saviour? Then Jesus and the resurrection was preached — never human feeling — never amendment, resolutions, or sorrow for sin, as conditions of God's free gift — eternal life.

The gospel finds man blind as to God's character of love, and morally dead in sin. It reveals God in the blessed Jesus, God is love. The cross — ah! there the sinner sees the goodness of God. The infinite love of God — what a sight! This, and this alone, leads to repentance, or, as the word in the Greek always means, a change of mind. When Jesus, saving from the curse of sin by the death of the cross, is revealed to the soul, there is then that change of mind toward God — that knowing God which is eternal life. This is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ — this is repentance toward God. It is only as I gaze on the cross of Jesus that I can either learn or feel what sin is. Blessed Jesus! Thy precious blood cleanseth me from the guilt, and delivers me from the power, of sin! If I look back at my feelings or my doings, all is failure and sin; and hence, if these have aught to do with my salvation, all is darkness and uncertainty. But looking at the cross of Jesus my Lord, I find no failure. "It is finished." With all my coldness, and unworthiness, and sin, I do believe; and hence I can say I am saved. "The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." My reader, if you have been brought to give up all dependence on self, your feelings, your sorrows, or your tears, then hear the words of Jesus. He says, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, HATH everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life." Again, He Says, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand."

Think of those words — "eternal life," "hath everlasting life," "shall never perish neither shall any pluck them out of my hand."

Is this your present and eternal portion? Then can you say, "Worthy is the Lamb?" and "I have eternal life?" Do not rest satisfied with a mere hope of being saved. It will not do to tell the collector you hope you have a ticket.

The believer has redemption through the blood of Christ, and his hope is the coming of the Lord.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 12

"Over-Luggage"

A short time ago, I was waiting at the Stoke station, when I overheard a violent dispute about a gentleman's over-luggage. The owner of the luggage evidently wished to defraud the company; and an officer was very properly refusing to allow him to proceed until the amount was paid. I felt pleased with the manly conduct of the officer, a tall Irishman; and after the noise had subsided, I entered into the following conversation with him. I said, "Then I suppose the passenger cannot go on unless the over-luggage is paid to the full. How much is it?" "Seven and sixpence," was the reply; "and it would not be right for me to take less than the full amount." "Very true," I replied; "but if a friend were to pay the full amount, would you hinder him then?" "Oh dear no, sir! should I not be very glad to see him go along?" "And the porters all along the line, do you think they would stop him?" "Oh, not at all, sir; he would be as welcome to travel on as though he had paid every farthing himself." "Well, now," I said, "suppose you and I were about to take a journey to-day, say from this world to the next, what about the over-luggage — I mean our sins; if put on the scale of divine justice, do you really think you would pass?" "Well, now, sir," he said, "that is what often troubles me when I come to think of dying. I goes to church, you know, sir, on Sundays, but still I fear my sins would be too heavy for me to pass on to heaven." "Then what have you towards paying the over-luggage?" "Oh, sir, I have nothing at all, for I am a sinner." "Let me, then," I said, "tell you what another has done. When God weighed our sins on the scale of divine justice, such was the weight, that the lever went higher and higher, until the price demanded was the Son of God. And blessed it is that I can tell you that God spared not His own Son; 'for God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Now, just as it would not be right for you to let the passenger pass on until his over-luggage is paid to the full, neither would it be righteous if God were to allow the sinner to pass on to heaven until his sins were met to the full. But, then, also, just as it is perfectly right for you to allow the passenger to pass on when his over-luggage has been paid for by another, how much more is God perfectly righteous in receiving the sinner, the awful weight of whose sins has been met by the death of Jesus Christ, His own beloved Son! The amount claimed by divine justice has been paid to the full. 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' Yes, and then if called upon to take your journey to-day, you may look at the cross, and pass on to glory."

My train moved on, the man thanked me for the conversation, and God only knows whether I shall meet him amongst the redeemed above.

Well, reader, what about your over-luggage? Sinner you are, "For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." If God were to let you feel the real weight of only one of your sins, it would sink you in everlasting despair. Yet, strange as it may appear, I find many of my fellow-travellers who seem to think that God is far more indifferent about our sins than the railway officer was about the over-luggage. They know they are sinners, yet with some of them sin is a very light matter, and yet they expect to get into heaven somehow. They think if they begin to reform some day, and do the best they can, all will be right at last. Reader, if this is your state of mind you are not far from the lake of fire. Sometimes I meet with persons in the very opposite state of mind from this. I will tell you of one case. I was coming to Tetbury station in the omnibus. My fellow-traveller was a young person who appeared distressed in mind. After some conversation, I inquired the state of her soul. I shall never forget her reply. "It is no use. I have tried so often to give up my sins and the world, and serve God, and I have failed every time. I only keep adding to the weight of my sins. I have given up the attempt." As she said these words, tears rolled down her face. I said, "I am glad to hear you say so." She appeared greatly surprised, and wished for an explanation. I read to her Mark 2:1-5. I told her the one sick of the palsy had to be let down in his entire helplessness to the very floor at the feet of Jesus. It was then, but not till then, he heard those precious words of Jesus, "Son, thy sins be forgiven thee." She had made this mistake; she had tried to climb a little higher by her best endeavours. There must be this letting down; and God had by every failure let her down a little lower; and now is she was helpless at the feet of Jesus, I was glad to be able to set forth a full and eternal salvation through Him. She said she had never seen it in that way. Her mother, on seeing us enter the omnibus, had retired to pray that God would use that opportunity for the conversion of her child. How little did I think that in a few days she was to return to her mother's house to die. I passed through the same town seven months afterwards. I found her pale on her dying bed. She had now found peace through the precious blood of Christ. The visits of a Christian had been blessed to her soul. She is now with the Lord.

The cross of Christ meets both these states of mind. Are you careless about sin? Look at the cross; in it God says it is impossible for Him to be indifferent about sin.

Is your soul burthened with sin? Do you feel like the person with his over-luggage, that with your sins you must pass on to the presence of God? Oh, how overwhelming is the weight and guilt of sin — still pressing the soul down, down, down! Yet, how ever much we may fool its weight, it is only at the cross of Jesus that we can really learn what sin is. The cross of Christ was the scale of divine justice on which sin was weighed to the utmost. God there laid its utmost weight on Jesus. "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." The thought of it made Him, even the Son of man, sweat as it were great drops of blood. Oh, dwell on the solemn hour of the cross, when His soul was made an offering for sin! Blessed Jesus! in that hour of darkness, thou didst endure the full weight, the utmost curse of sin! Pass on, my soul, pass on; the ransom is fully paid: it is finished. The price of thy fearful over-luggage is paid; fully, divinely paid — paid to the utmost. Jesus is risen. Thou art justified. God, who laid thy sins on Jesus, has justified thee. Pass on. That same Jesus is coming again shortly to receive thee to Himself.

Reader, nothing can discharge thy over-burthened soul but the cross of Christ. Thy best works can help thee no more in this matter than thy greatest sins.

Believer, why doubt? Pass on with holy confidence. God is divinely and eternally righteous in justifying thee from all sin, and receiving thee to glory. "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 13

"How does a Man become a Soldier?"

I was leaving the Birmingham station for Manchester the other day, when I noticed three soldiers walking on the platform. I felt an inward conviction that my Master had something for me to say to these men. Taking my seat in the carriage beside their three knapsacks, I looked up in prayer, that the right man might come and sit next to me. They took their seats. I remained silent for some time. At last I saw tears begin to roll down the face of the man next to me. It is often better to pray than talk; one gets to see more of God that way. After a while I said to him, "When I saw you three walking on the platform, I felt assured that the Lord had a message for one of you; and I asked Him to bring the right man next to me; and now, will you tell me what is giving you so much grief this morning?" He looked very much surprised, and said, "Oh, sir, it is eighteen years since I ran away from home; my father was a man of prayer; I never saw him again; he has been dead many years now, but I can never forget his prayers for me. I have been abroad most of my time since I enlisted — have never seen my dear mother from that day to this — she does not know whether I am dead or alive; but I am going, to-day to see her; I have got her address in Manchester; and this brings to my mind those happy days when my father had a prayer-meeting in our house." He also showed me a worn-out letter, written by his sister, on leaving his native shores. No, words can tell the value he set upon this tender treasure; he had worn it near his heart in every part of the world he had seen. He also opened his knapsack, and shewed me a well-worn Bible: his two companions, I found, also had each his Bible. They were, in fact, three praying soldiers. I read their testimonials, and three more noble, upright men I seldom met. The thrilling interest of that conversation I shall not easily forget. One point, however, I must name. Though these three soldiers were, like Lydia of old, men of prayer, and I trust the Lord had opened the heart of the one next me, yet they were totally ignorant of God's plan of salvation. In order to meet this ignorance, I put the following question: — "How does a man become a soldier? Doe he go to some old rag-shop, and buy old cast-off regimentals, and try to imitate the soldier, until he gets to be one?" "Well, well," said one of them, a pretty soldier "that would be, wouldn't he, now?" "But," said I, "then tell me, how does a man become a soldier?" "How, why simply by receiving the shilling,* to be sure." "Just so," said I, "does a sinner become a Christian. It is not by going to some religious rag-shop, and buying the rags of self-righteousness; and trying to imitate the Christian, until he gets to be one. No, it is simply as a lost sinner receiving Christ, as the man receives the shilling." "As many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name." "

What!" said one of the soldiers, "do you mean to say then that a man does not ought to do his duty to God, to read His word, and pray?" "Oh, yes! the Christian earnestly desires to do all this; but you have to do your duty, you have to keep your regimentals bright, and to obey your orders; but tell me, have you to do your duty to get to be a soldier, or because (since you received the shilling) you are one? Just so the Christian. He loves to keep his regimentals bright, to walk with garments undefiled, and to obey, as a son delights to obey, the will of his Father. But this is not to get to be a Christian, but because he is one."

* [Written in the XIXth century]

"I never saw it in that light before," said he. "I know you never did; and after all your sincere desires to live to God, and thus get to be a Christian, when you come to look back at your past life, have you not often done the things you most hate? Don't you often feel you are as far from being what you wish to be as ever — sin has such terrible power? Now, has it not?" "That's all true, sir. But what is a poor fellow to do? You have no idea, sir, of the temptations of a poor soldier! Why, now, we three, because we are steady men, are sent to be recruiting sergeants. It makes my very heart sick to think of the dens we shall have to go into to get our men." "Oh," said I, "what a world of sin and wretchedness! and how much there is in every fallen man that answers to the iniquity around. If God had not known it all, and sent His own dear Son to die, the sacrifice for sin, on the cross, so that salvation might be as free, yet as binding, as the soldier's shilling, who could be saved? Who, with such a fallen nature, in such a world, could imitate the Christian, until he got to be one?"

At Crewe, two old pensioners got into the same carriage one, of whom appeared to have tried hard and long to make himself a Christian. This man, I believe, found blessing to his soul through the conversation. As an old soldier, he remembered well the shilling; and he remembered he had not to buy his regimentals; and he remembered well that he had to do his duty, not to get to be a soldier, but because he was one. But he had never known that it is just the same with every sinner that is brought to God. When a man is enlisted, he is stripped of everything — not a rag is left. He then stands in royal uniform — but that royal suit is a gift — he has not to pay a penny for it. He only receives it. No matter how dirty his old rags were. Every man in the regiment stands in the same cloth. It will be so with thee, poor, lost sinner, no matter how filthy thy life has been; no, if even thou hast been like the thief on the cross, or a very Mary Magdalene. If the Holy Spirit shall open thy heart to receive Christ as thy entire salvation, thy royal clothing shall be the very righteousness of God. Yes, every soldier of Christ wears the same spotless robe. "For he hath made him sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." (2 Cor. 5:21.) "But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption."

Perhaps one of the dealers in old rags of self-righteousness will say, "Won't you come to my shop, and try my sacraments and ordinances? I will teach you how to imitate the Christian best, and then you may hope to get to be one. I assure you my shop is the oldest in the line?" No, thank you; no religious rags for me. I have put on the Lord Jesus — He is my only trust — I need no more; for God says of all that are in Him, "There is, therefore, now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." And, "Ye are complete in him." What God says is complete, let not man try to mend. No, no! fellow-soldier of Christ, don't be tempted into the rag-shops of the day; thou hast not to put on old regimentals to get to be a soldier of Christ. Watch and pray, that thou mayest walk worthy of thy royal uniform. As says the word of God, "I will that thou affirm constantly that they which have believed in God (those that are saved) might be careful to maintain good works." (Titus 3:4-8.)

It is impossible to describe that poor soldier, as he came within sight of Manchester. I spoke of the return of the prodigal son. Whatever might be the joy of that poor mother's heart, in receiving her long-lost son, still infinitely greater is the joy of God, in receiving the long-lost prodigal. Oh! careless sinner, what a God of love dost thou despise! Thou art starving in wretchedness, and there is bread enough and to spare. See, see, He comes to meet thee with outstretched arms of love; fall into them, crying, "I have sinned." The first words the prodigal heard were these, "Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hands, and shoes on his feet."

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 14

That Sad, Sad Face

I was travelling on the Midland some time ago. Amongst my fellow-passengers were a commercial, an aged general, a major, an aged lady, a sister of mercy, or nun, and a young girl, who, from her agitation, I feared, was being tempted from her home to take the veil. A more sad face than that of the unhappy-looking nun was seldom seen. As I looked at her, I thought if she had but peace with God, oh, how her misery would be turned into joy! I sat longing for an opportunity to tell her of the finished work of Christ. By-and-by she felt for her ticket — she could not find it. I helped her to seek it. At last she found it, after much excitement, in her cloak sleeve. I then said, "It would be a fearful thing at the end of the journey of life to find that we were without the passport to heaven." "Indeed it would," she replied. I said, "Can you tell me what the passport is to the holy presence of God?" "A good conscience," she replied. I said again, "God says in His word that 'there is none righteous, no, not one,' that 'there is no difference, for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.' Will you then tell me how a sinner can have a good conscience?" The nun was quite at a loss to know how to answer this question. "I should think you ought to know," said the aged lady at my left, and, pointing to the Word of God in my hand, she said, "That book will tell you." "You are quite right," I said. "This book tells me that 'the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth me from all sin,' that every believer has 'boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus.' It tells me my sins are forgiven for His name's sake, that believers have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace (Eph. 1:1-7), that God is infinitely righteous in thus justifying a poor sinner, and that without works." (Rom. 3:19-23.)

"What!" said the major, "you do not mean to say that a man may know in this world that his sins are forgiven. I cannot think that a man can be quite sure of that." "Certainly, Major; and now let me give you an illustration in your own line. Suppose your regiment in rebellion, and you give yourself up to make reconciliation for your men, telling them that if you do not succeed you shall never return, but that if you do return, they may be quite sure of their pardon the moment they see you — that the reconciliation will then have been made. Now suppose you do thus make a complete and satisfactory reconciliation — you do return — and you call your regiment on parade, and announce a free pardon to every soldier; and now a man steps up, and says, 'I suppose,' your honour, I must not be quite sure that what you say is true?' Now, Major, would you not consider that an insult?"

"That is right," says the old general.

"And now, if it is an insult to doubt the word of a fallible man, what is it to doubt the testimony of the infallible God? Has not the blessed Jesus given Himself the propitiation for sin, 'to make reconciliation for the sins of the people?' 'He died for our sins according to the scriptures, and he was buried, and he rose again the third day.' (1 Cor. 15:3, 5.) He never could have returned from the cold chambers of the dead if the reconciliation had not been perfectly made. But believers can say with triumph, 'He was raised from the dead for our justification, therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace, with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Do you not see, Major, your return to your regiment would be a proof that reconciliation was made? And the resurrection of Christ is God's proof that the atoning work of Christ is perfectly finished. And if your own word should be enough for your men to believe, what can I want more than the word of God? God hath raised up that very Jesus who groaned and bled on the cross beneath the weight of my sins and guilt. And that is not all. That very Jesus is gone up on high, and sits at the right hand of the majesty on high. This is what gives me the answer of a good conscience, as Peter says, 'And be ready always to give an answer to every mall that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear, having a good conscience.' But how? By good works? No, these will do before men, 'but the answer of a good conscience toward God is only by the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who is gone into heaven,' &c. (1 Pet. 3:15, 22.) The sacrifices of the law could never make the conscience perfect, much less can the bloodless sacrifices that men pretend now to offer. But the offering of Jesus on the cross — His one offering of Himself — perfects the conscience for ever, so perfects it that there needs 'no more sacrifice for sins.'" (Heb. 10:1-23.)

"Major, would you not be happy now if you knew your sins were forgiven?" "Oh yes, indeed, nothing on this earth could make me so happy." And then, addressing the nun, I said, "And would not you be happy if you also know, like the believing Ephesians, that God had for Christ's sake forgiven your sins?" She said, "I do not know how to answer you." The commercial man now spoke: "I have no doubt that a man is justified, as you have said, by faith; but will you tell me when a man may conclude with certainty and safety that he is saved?" "That is a very important inquiry," said I. "Many make a fatal mistake by concluding, because they have passed through a religious excitement, that they may hope they are saved. There is no safety in such a conclusion. Neither can a person be sure he is saved by fasting, and prayers, and works of kindness. No, there is sin mixed up with it all. Neither dare the person conclude that he is saved by keeping the holy law of God; for the more sincerely he strives to keep it, the more miserable and desponding he is, for he finds an evil heart that is still breaking it. But when a person sees himself so great a sinner that there is no remedy for him but death, and that God has met his need as a sinner in the death of Christ, and that being risen from the death the sinner deserved, He is now his justification and life — in plain words, when stripped of all dependence on himself, he is brought by the Spirit of God to trust alone in Christ, he may then conclude with certainty and safety that he is saved."

Yes, my reader, nothing can be so sure as the word of the living God: "Be it known unto you that through this risen man, Christ Jesus, is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins, and by him all that believe are justified from all things from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses." "Are justified" — not may be after death. No, the believer is now beyond death, Jesus having died for him. If you are brought to give up all self-righteousness, and as a lost sinner to receive Christ as your entire salvation, you may be most certain you are saved. A person may be deceived in doing and enduring anything to save himself, but no man will trust alone in Christ, but, by the Holy Ghost. If this is your faith, you may be certain it is of God. You may be certain, therefore, you are saved. If you are trusting partly in Christ, and partly in something else, you never on that ground can be saved. It must be all Christ, or no Christ at all.

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 15

"Must I not strive?" or the Poor Man's Dinner

I had a long conversation the other day with a butcher, on the rail to Derby, on the reason why men smoke and drink. This led us to the subject of the bitter misery that sin produces, even in this life; and the various attempts that men make to smother conscience, and drown sorrow. The butcher had just lost his wife, was left with two little children, had passed through some trouble of conscience; but, what was worse, he often took too much drink. In short, we were both agreed that one great reason why men drink is the misery and burthen of sin. He owned it was a wretched thing thus to go on from sin to sin; and that solemn word of God sounded heavy in his ears, "The drunkard shall not inherit the kingdom of God." I found him much interested in the things of religion, and wishful to converse upon them. I found he purposed, at some future time, to make a firm resolution to cast off his sins, and become religious. Alas! how many are now in hell who once had the same intention as this butcher! He evidently thought a little striving of his own, at any time, would do all that is required.

"Well, now," said I, "man is certainly in a wretched condition through sin; but how do you think he is to get saved from this guilt and misery?" "Well, you know," said the butcher, "it will not do for a man to go on in his sins until he dies, will it? He must strive hard to give up all his bad ways, and live to God." I replied, "He will never save himself by his striving in that way." "What!" said he, "do you mean to say a man must not strive?" "As long as he does strive in that way," said I, "he is a rejecter of Christ." I saw the poor man was evidently trusting in his future strivings. "Explain yourself," said he: "whatever do you mean? — A man striving is a man rejecting the gospel of Christ! What can you mean?"

I replied, "I will illustrate what I mean. Suppose you have gone on in sin and drunkenness, until you have brought your family to starvation; you have not a farthing to buy them food, and you are too ill to make the least effort; when a friend comes to your house, spreads your table with plenty, and begs you to eat. If, then, you say, 'No, I must strive to got food myself,' would not you be rejecting the kindness of your friend? And would not this rejection of his love continue as long as ever you continue your striving? And is it not so with the lost sinner? Man is so bad, that he really does go on sinning until he dies. Is he not as helpless as the starving man? God has come to his rescue — God has given His own Son to meet his deepest need as a lost sinner, by the death of the cross. He died to deliver us, because we could not possibly save ourselves. God, the Friend above all friends, has come in Christ to our house of wretchedness and sin; and He, in pure love and pity, has spread the table of salvation — all things are ready. Oh! it is God that beseeches poor dying sinners to eat the bread of life spread before them. 'Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us; we pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God.' The kindness of God to perishing sinners has now been shown by the death of Jesus. Now pardon and deliverance are preached through Him. Surely, then, the longer I strive to save myself, the longer I reject the kindness of the God of all love."

The man's countenance fell; his last prop, he felt, was being taken from under him; his heart rose in rebellion against the free grace of God. If he could but have had the honour of a little striving, as a merit, to bring to God, he would have been well pleased. But to bow to God meeting him through the finished work of Christ, in pure, undeserved pity and love, this he would not do. He now tried to ridicule me, "Perhaps," said he, "you are not so good as you pretend, to be." "You very much mistake me," said I, "if you suppose I pretend to be good. No, I put myself along with you; I say we are both sinners; only I feel I am a greater sinner than you, because I know more about my own sins than I do about yours. But this is the difference between us — I have been brought, like the famished man, to receive Christ, the salvation of God. I can assure you it is through His blood alone I am pardoned and washed. I have nothing else before God. It is His life from the dead, that is my life. It is not in myself I boast, but in Christ. Jesus the Lord." "I have had enough," said he; "I will hear no more." A young man to my right, who had been deeply interested in the conversation, put forth his head, and said, "Will you tell me that illustration again?" I repeated to him again the parable of a friend going to the famishing household, as an illustration of the work of Christ for perishing sinners. I showed him it was not that we had to do one thing for God — it was not even that we had to present the sacrifice of Christ to God, and believe, until God would save us, as though there were any virtue or merit in our so presenting it. No, salvation was entirely from God; like the poor man's dinner, which was entirely from the friend. That it was God who had provided that great propitiation for sin, the sacrifice of Christ — that it is God who meets the sinner in his deepest wretchedness and helplessness — that the moment I believe, and receive the kindness of God, I am saved. That young man's face now lit up with joy — it was the joy of a new-born child of God. God had, during the repeating of those words, met his weary, anxious soul, and spoken peace, through the finished work of His own Son. To the one, the precious gospel had proved the savour of death unto death; to the other of life unto life. I found the Lord had been preparing him for three months for this message of mercy and love. Ah, there is often a striving and a struggling before the heart is made to really give up all hopes in self, and accept Christ as its entire salvation. This is the work of God by the Holy Ghost.

My reader may perhaps say, "Well, after all, I intend myself, some day, to strive hard to give up all my hateful sins, and serve and love God with all my heart — would it not be right to do so?" Oh, yes, certainly it would. But have you not tried to do so, and failed? and may you mot continue to fail until it is too late, and you are lost?

Perhaps you may say again, is not that what Christ meant, when He said, "Strive to enter in at the strait gate?" No; certainly He could not by that striving mean self-righteousness. He was speaking to the self-righteous Jews; nay, it was their very self-righteousness that made it so difficult to enter the "strait gate." Surely the death of Christ is too strait a gate or door to admit one particle of self-righteousness. His own sheep, even amongst or in the Jewish fold, had to be led out through that door: and no sinner on earth can be saved in any other way than through the death, burial, and resurrection of Him who is the door — of Him who gave His life for the sheep.

God grant that many of my readers may be thus stripped of all pretensions to self-righteousness, and self-striving, and self-dependence, and self-intentions, and own themselves so utterly, hopelessly bad, that God has well met their deep need, by the death of His adorable Son. "This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent."

C.S.

Railway Tracts. - No. 16

The Lunatic and his Keeper

On leaving the Gloucester station the other day, I found that one of my fellow-passengers was a lunatic, in the care of a keeper. I soon found that this keeper held some most dangerous opinions respecting the Temperance movement. With him temperance was a John the Baptist, to prepare sinners for Christ; and, as near as I could make out his meaning, he thought it was about one-half of a sinner's salvation; a sentiment as much like blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, whose blessed work it is to bring sinners to Christ, as anything I have heard.

I should be most sorry to speak one word against temperance as a great social benefit amongst men. Right glad should I be, where drunkenness is such a frightful evil, if there were not a drop of drink to be got in the land. Entirely apart from the question of a sinner's salvation, there can be no doubt the moral government of God so orders things, that a sober man must enjoy a greater amount of social happiness than a drunkard. But when the foundation of the gospel is attacked, is a Christian to be silent? God forbid. This caused me to speak very strongly of the use that Satan may make of the Temperance movement. This may startle my reader; but lot me remind you that it is ever Satan's policy to use the best things adapted to accomplish his purposes. He is wont to appear as an angel of light. I will just refer to a parallel case. No one can question that the law of God is holy, just, and good. No one can question the immense benefit of that law in God's moral government of the world; or that in this respect, and for this purpose, to abolish it would be to turn this whole world into one wide hell. And yet it was this very law that the ministers of Satan were seeking to mix with the work of Christ, for justification before God. The Epistle to the Galatians was written for the very purpose of meeting this work of Satan. Now, if he took up so good a thing as the law, is it any wonder that he should take up so good a thing as temperance, and use it in the same way? It was not enough, said they, for salvation, that a man should believe in Christ, he must also be circumcised and keep the law. This keeper was just saying the same thing over again; trying hard to prove that it was not enough for a poor, lost sinner to believe in Christ. He must take the pledge first, and be a temperance man; then he was fit to believe in Christ. Mix the two together, and the man might be saved. A man must have poor eyes that cannot see this to be the devil's work over again.

And now mark the rebuke of the lunatic. He suddenly stopped his keeper with these words, "Christ must be all." Yes, my reader, in the business of thy soul's salvation these are the words of truth. I felt they were the words of God, though through a deranged man. He spoke again, "Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils;" and when I put the question to all in the carriage, "What is it to be a Christian?" one said, "It is to do all the good I can to my neighbours;" another said, "It is to love God all I can;" another said, "I do not know much about it." "Ask me," said the lunatic. "Very well, what do you say it is?" "To have a broken heart!!" was the reply. "Is not a Christian," said he, "like a tree? Is not Christ the root, from which the tree gains the sap, which produces and support all the twigs, the leaves, and fruit? Christ is all." What remarkable words from a man who had to be watched every minute!

Suppose my reader had to cross a fearful mountain current, rolling deeply beneath a solid, firm bridge, built at great cost by the government, and stretched across the frightful gulf. A man sees you, and, pretending to be your friend, he brings a plank, far too short to reach across. He tells you the bridge is not sufficient, that you must walk first on his plank, or that, at all events, you must walk a little on one, and a little on the other; what would you say to such a proposal?

The plank might be useful enough for other purposes; but if you trusted it for crossing the gulf, you would find it a fearful mistake. Christ is the bridge across the gulf of destruction, and temperance is man's plank. It is useful in its place, but far too short to lay across the gulf. Trust it, and you are lost. Shall I say that Christ is not able to save to the uttermost? that He who converted the mad persecutor, Paul, cannot convert the poor drunkard until he has half saved himself? I tell thee thou art welcome this moment to Christ. Did He ever send a sinner away? Never. He is the only one who can deliver thee from thy hateful sins.

"But, oh!" say the modern ministers of Satan, "the bridge so often falls, and lets its travellers into the gulf — there are so few of its travellers get safe over, that you had really better try the plank." Find me a stone loose in that foundation which God hath laid! Christ fail! Christ let a soul perish that trusts in Him! Do you mean to say that? It is plain enough, if a traveller falls in who is on the bridge, that the bridge itself must fall first. It is plain enough, too, that whatever plank man or Satan brings, it is calling in question the all-sufficiency of Christ Jesus, for the sinner's entire and eternal salvation. But perhaps you may say, "Do all who are on that bridge, that is, who are saved by Christ alone, go safe to God?" Yes; if one were lost, then Christ would have failed. Their going safe over is the proof that they are saved by Him. "Then how is it that so many who profess do fall, and perish at last?" Profess what? Many are in this day walking on a plank of their own. They can only walk until their own weight sinks them in; and then they say the bridge has let them in. The fact is, they never were on the bridge. Suppose the plank you are walking, or trying to walk on, is the law — the keeping of the commandments. You have believed Satan, that Christ is not enough for your salvation. He gently lays you down the plank — the law. Can you walk across the gulf on that plank? It is far too short to carry a sinner across. You feel your sins are getting heavier and heavier; another step, and the plank sinks lower. Hold! stop! man, you will be in! Another is trusting to his sacraments, ordinances, and the like. He goes back to Judaism, and calls it High Church. He is walking on his own plank; it is sure to let him in, and all that are blind enough to follow him. Yes, and if thou art trusting to thy pledge, to thy temperance, to thy morality, or to thyself, in any form, thy plank is too short, and keeping to it, thou wilt perish for ever. I do not frustrate the grace of God; for if righteousness come by the law, or by the pledge, or by anything that man can do for himself, "then Christ is dead in vain." Yes, if any plank could have been found able to carry the sinner across the fearful gulf and torrent of iniquity and sin, God would have spared His Son — those words would never have been heard from the holy lips of Jesus, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Oh, what has that bridge, cost God? The death of His only-begotten Son. It is not my loving God with all my heart that makes me a Christian, but believing that God has loved me with all His heart — so loved, that He spared not His beloved Son! It is not my doing all the good I can to my neighbour that makes me a Christian. No, it is God that has done all the good He can to me, when an enemy. As the lunatic said, it is learning this love at the foot of the cross that breaks my proud heart.

Reader, hast thou thus got a broken heart? Is Christ thy root? thy bridge? Is Christ thy all? If not, beware of Satan's planks. It is quite true what the apostle says of "Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like; of the which [says he] I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God." But it is also true that Jesus is the Saviour who shall deliver, who hath delivered, and who doth deliver His people from their sins.

Fellow-believer, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of Jesus Christ our Lord."

C.S.