"Not Ashamed of the Gospel"

Narrator: Chris Genthree
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From an address to the young, sixty years ago.
“I AM not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth.” Paul, who said this, might well say it, for he had well proved it, and was not speaking on a subject of which he knew little, for he had felt its power himself; and such was its power upon him that it caused him to despise all dangers and distressing circumstances; and after enduring years of trouble, we find him declaring, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel.” When I heard Mr. S― speak about the blood of Christ, I felt that that precious blood was the very core of the Gospel which Paul knew and preached, and in which he gloried. But why was he not ashamed of the Gospel? Because “it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth”; and may God give each of you to understand that reason, if you have never understood it before.
Yes, the Gospel becomes the power of God to the sinner of seventy years, as well as to the child of two or three just lisping the name of Jesus. When the heart drinks in the story of that precious blood, and that whosoever will may be sprinkled therewith―any of Adam’s guilty race, rich or poor, young or old―” it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.”
Oh, that God may seal the Gospel on the heart of every one here! Is there any one saying, I see others converted and going home rejoicing. I see many a countenance beaming with delight as they sing—
“I do believe, I can believe,
That Jesus died for me,”
but I am an exception―nothing seems to reach me! Oh, that this “everyone” may, by the Spirit of God, be applied to you!
Now, like Paul, I can declare to you that “I am not ashamed of the Gospel.” And first, because it has been the power of God to my own salvation. I dare not speak to others if I did not know the power of that precious blood. When I was twelve years old the Gospel of Christ became the power of God to my soul; and of all things I regret in my past life, I never for a moment regretted that the Lord brought me so early to Himself, and have never wished I had spent a few more years in sin and guilt and misery.
Secondly, I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because soon after my own conversion, it became the power of God to the salvation of one who lay nearest my heart―the playmate of my boyish days―my own dear sister. As it was during the time of revival, it was the custom, in the locality where we lived, that all who were anxious about their souls should take seats on benches specially set apart for them. Now, remember, I do not say anything as to the right or wrong of it, I merely tell you that such was the custom. One evening I had the pleasure of seeing my dear sister go and sit on “the anxious seat,” and her going encouraged others to go, too, who found peace long before she did. She was a long time in deep distress, so that we almost despaired of her ever finding rest to her weary soul. But one evening I heard one minister say to another, “Well, she has found peace at last”; and I felt it was my sister of whom they spoke. And so it was. She had really believed the Gospel, which was the power of God to her soul’s salvation.
And exactly twelve months after that, my dear sister was so seriously injured by fire, that she expired after thirty hours of great suffering; but during that time what did she say about the Gospel? When an aged Christian friend asked her, “Do you find the Lord with you?” a heavenly smile lit up her fearfully altered countenance, and she answered, “Yes; and His presence makes a paradise! For where He is there is heaven.” Ah! what must the Gospel be when that precious one could rejoice therein at such a time!
In the third place, I am not ashamed of the Gospel because it became the power of God to a dear child of mine, who died before he was sixteen. I should just like to recite to you, dear children, a few lines which comforted my aching heart when I returned from the funeral of my boy, and which have since been printed. Before his last illness, he had been ill, and expected death. However, he recovered for a while, and during the interval wrote the following lines―
“Oh! I have been at the brink of the grave,
And stood on the edge of its deep, dark wave;
And I thought, in th’ still, calm hours of night,
Of those regions where all is ever bright;
And I feared not the wave
Nor the gloomy grave,
For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.
“And I have wateh’d the solemn ebb and flow
Of life’s tide, which was fleeting sure the’ slow;
I’ve stood on the shore of eternity,
And heard the deep roar of its rushing sea;
Yet I feared not the wave
Nor the gloomy grave,
For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.
“And I found that my only rest could be
In the death of the One Who died for me;
For my rest is bought with the price of blood
Which gushed from the veins of the Son of God;
So I fear not the wave
Nor the gloomy grave,
For I know that Jehovah is mighty to save.”
Ah! surely I may well say, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel.”
W. TROTTER: