and at last died a death of agony. If you will only think of the wondrous person whom Jesus was — as very God of very God, King of angels, Creator, Preserver, Lord of all — I think you will see that in his sufferings, the law received a greater vindication than it could have done even in the sufferings of all the men that have ever lived or ever could live. If God had consumed the whole human race, if all the worlds that float in ether had been sacrificed as one mighty holocaust to the vengeance of the law, it would not have been so well vindicated as when Jesus died. For the deaths of all men and all angels would have been only the deaths and sufferings of creatures; but when Jesus died, the Creator himself underwent the pang, it was the divine Preserver of the world hanging on the cross. There is such dignity in the Godhead, that all it does is marvellous and infinite in its merit; and when he stooped to suffer, when he bowed his awe inspiring head, cast aside his diadem of stars to have his brow girt about with thorns; when his bands that once swayed the sceptre of all worlds were nailed to the tree; when his feet that before had pressed the clouds, when these were fastened to the wood, then the law received an honour such as it never could have received if a whole universe in one devouring conflagration had blazed and burned for ever.
10. 2. In the next place, just pause and think of the relationship which Jesus Christ had towards the great Judge of all the earth, and then you will see again that the law must have been fully satisfied by him. We hear of Brutus that he was the most inflexible of lawgivers; that when he sat upon the bench he was impartial. Imagine many of the noblest Roman senators dragged before Brutus, convicted of crime: he condemns them, and without mercy they are dragged away by the lictors to their doom. You would admire certainly all this justice of Brutus. But suppose that Brutus’ own son was brought before him — and such was the case — imagine the father sitting on the judgment bench, and declaring that he knew no distinction whatever, even of his own children. Conceive that son tried and condemned out of his father’s own mouth. See him tied up before his father’s own eyes, while, as the inflexible judge, that father bids the lictor lay on the rod, and afterwards cries, “Take him away and use the axe!” Do you not see here how he loves his country better then his son, and he loves justice better then either. “Now,” says the world, “Brutus is indeed just.” Now, if God had condemned each of us one by one, or the whole race a mass, there would certainly have been a vindication of his justice. But lo! his own Son takes upon him the sins of the world, and he comes before his Father’s presence. He is not guilty in himself, but the sins of man are laid upon his shoulders. The Father condemns his Son; he gives him up to the Roman rod; he gives him up to Jewish mockery, to military scorn, and to priestly arrogance. He delivers up his Son to the executioner, and bids him nail him to the tree; and as if that were not enough, since the creature did not have power in itself to pour forth all the vengeance of God upon its own substitute, God himself strikes his Son. Are you staggered at such an expression? It is scriptural. Read in the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, and there you have its proof: — “It pleased the Lord to bruise him: he has put him to grief.” When the whip had gone around to every hand, when the betrayer had struck him, when Pilate and Herod, and Jew and Gentile, had each laid on the stroke, it was seen that human arm was not powerful enough to execute the full vengeance: then the Father took his sword, and cried, “Awake! oh sword, against my shepherd, against the man that is my fellow,” and he struck him sternly, as if he had been his enemy, as if he were a common culprit, as if he were the worst of criminals — he struck him again and again, until that awful shriek was forced from the lips of the dying substitute, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani” — my God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Surely when God strikes his Son, and such a Son, when God strikes his only begotten and well beloved, then Justice has more than its due, more than it could ask for, which Christ himself freely gave!
11. 3. Furthermore, if you will for a moment please consider how terrible the agonies of Christ were, which, he endured in the room, the place, the stead of all poor penitent sinners, of all those who confess their sins and believe in him; I say, when you see these agonies, you will readily see why Justice does not stand in the sinner’s way. Does Justice come to you this morning, and say, “Sinner, you have sinned, I will punish you?” Answer thus — “Justice, you have punished all my sins. All I ought to have suffered has been suffered by my substitute, Jesus. It is true that in myself I owe you a debt greater than I can pay, but it is true that in Christ I owe you nothing; for all I did owe is paid, every farthing of it; the utmost drachma has been counted down; not a bit remains that is due from me to you, oh you avenging justice of God.” But if Justice still accuses, and conscience clamours, go and take Justice with you to Gethsemane, and stand there with it: — See that man so oppressed with grief, that all his head, his hair, his garments are bloody. Sin was a press — a vice which forced his blood from every vein, and wrapped him in a sheet of his own blood. Do see that man over there? can you hear his groans, his cries, his earnest intercessions, his strong crying and tears? can you see that clotted sweat as it crimsons the frozen soil, strong enough to unloose the curse? do see him in the desperate agony of his spirit, crushed, broken, bruised beneath the feet of the Justice in the olive press of God? Justice, is not that enough? will not that make you content? In a whole hell there is not so much dignity of vengeance as there is in the garden of Gethsemane. Are you not satisfied yet? Come, Justice, to the hall of Pilate. Do you see that man arraigned, accused, charged with sedition and with blasphemy? See him taken to the guardroom, spat upon, buffeted with hands, crowned with thorns, robed in mockery, and insulted with a reed for a sceptre. I say, Justice, do you see that man, and do you know that he is “God over all blessed for every?” and yet he endures all this to satisfy your demands! Are you not content with that? Do you still frown? Let me show you this man on the pavement. He is stripped. Stand, Justice, and listen to those stripes, those bloody scourges, and as they fall upon his devoted back and plough deep furrows there, do you see thong-full after thong-full of his quivering flesh torn from his poor bare back? Are you not content yet, Justice? Then what will satisfy you? “Nothing,” says Justice, “but his death.” Come with me, then you can see that feeble man hurried through the streets! Do you see him driven to the top of Calvary, hurled on his back, nailed to the transverse wood? Oh, Justice, can you see his dislocated bones, now that his cross is lifted up? Stand with me, oh Justice, see him as he weeps, and sighs, and cries; see his soul agonies! Can you read that tale of terror which is veiled in that flesh and blood? Come, listen Justice, while you hear him cry, “I thirst,” and while you see the burning fever devouring him, until he is dried up like a potsherd, and his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth for thirst! And lastly, oh Justice, do you see him bow his head, and die? “Yes,” says Justice, “and I am satisfied; I have nothing more that I can ask for; I am fully content; my uttermost demands are more than satisfied.”
12. And am I not content, too? Guilty though I am and vile, can I not plead that this bloody sacrifice is enough to satisfy God’s demands against me? Oh, yes, I trust I can,
My faith does lay its hand,
On that dear head of thine,
While like a penitent I stand,
And here confess my sin.
Jesus, I believe that your sufferings were for me; and I believe that they are more than enough to satisfy for all my sins. By faith I cast myself at the foot of your cross and cling to it. This is my only hope, my shelter, and my shield. It cannot be, that God can strike me now. Justice itself prevents it, for when Justice once is satisfied it would be injustice if it should ask for more. Now, is it not clear enough to the eye of everyone, whose soul has been aroused, that Justice stands no longer in the way of the sinner’s pardon? God can be just, and yet the justifier. He has punished Christ, why should he punish twice for one offence? Christ has died for all his people’s sins, and if you are in the covenant, you are one of Christ’s people. You cannot be damned. You cannot suffer for your sins. Until God can be unjust, and demand two payments for one debt, he cannot destroy the soul for whom Jesus died. “Away goes universal redemption,” says one. Yes, away it goes, indeed. I am sure there is nothing about that in the Word of God. A redemption that does not redeem is not worth my preaching, or your
