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"Cleanse thou me from secret faults." Psalm 19:12 by C.H. Spurgeon I shall endeavour to urge upon all pretenders present to give up, to renounce, to
detest, to hate, to abhor all their secret sins. And, first, I shall endeavour to show the
folly of secret sins; secondly, the misery of secret sins; thirdly, the
guilt of secret sins; fourthly, the danger of secret sins; and then I shall try
to apply some words by way of remedy, that we may all of us be enabled to avoid secret
sins. I. First, then, THE FOLLY OF SECRET SINS. Pretender, thou art fair to look upon; thy conduct outwardly upright, amiable, liberal,
generous and Christian; but thou dost indulge in some sin which the eye of man has not yet
detected. Perhaps it is private drunkenness. Thou dost revile the drunkard when he
staggers through the street; but thou canst thyself indulge in the same habit in private.
It may be some other lust or vice; it is not for me just now to mention what it is. But,
pretender, we say unto thee, thou art a fool to think of harbouring a secret sin; and thou
art a fool for this one reason, that thy sin is not a secret sin; it is known, and
shall one day be revealed; perhaps very soon. Thy sin is not a secret; the eye of God hath
seen it; thou hast sinned before his face. Thou hast shut-to the door, and drawn the
curtains, and kept out the eye of the sun, but God's eye pierceth through the darkness;
the brick walls which surrounded thee were as transparent as glass to the eye of the
Almighty; the darkness which did gird thee was as bright as the summer's noon to the eye
of him who beholdeth all things. Knowest thou not, O man, that "all things are naked
and open to the eyes of him with whom we have to do?" As the priest ran his knife
into the entrails of his victim, discovered the heart and liver, and what else did lie
within, so art thou, O man, seen by God, cut open by the Almighty; thou hast no secret
chamber where thou canst hide thyself; thou hast no dark cellar where thou canst conceal
thy soul. Dig deep, ay, deep as hell, but thou canst not find earth enough upon the globe
to cover thy sin; if thou shouldst heap the mountains on its grave, those mountains would
tell the tale of what was buried in their bowels. If thou couldst cast thy sin into the
sea, a thousand babbling waves would tell the secret out. There is no hiding it from God.
Thy sin is photographed in high heaven; the deed when it was done was photographed upon
the sky, and there it shall remain, and thou shalt see thyself one day revealed to the
gazing eyes of all men, a hypocrite, a pretender, who didst sin in fancied secret,
observed in all thine acts by the all-seeing Jehovah. O what fools men are, to think they
can do anything in secret. This world is like the glass hives wherein bees sometimes work:
we look down upon them, and we see all the operations of the little creatures. So God
looketh down and seeth all. Our eyes are weak; we cannot look through the darkness; but
his eye, like an orb of fire, penetrateth the blackness; and readeth the thoughts of man,
and seeth his acts when he thinks himself most concealed. Oh; it were a thought enough to
curb us from all sin, if it were truly applied to us—"Thou, God, seest me!"
Stop thief! Drop thou that which thou hast taken to thyself. God seeth thee! No eye of
detection on earth hath discovered thee, but God's eyes are now looking through the clouds
upon thee. Swearer! scarce any for whom thou carest heard thy oath; but God heard it; it
entered into the ears of the Lord God of Sabbaoth. Ah! thou who leadest a filthy life, and
yet art a respectable merchant bearing among men a fair and goodly character; thy vices
are all known; written in God's book. He keepeth a diary of all thine acts; and what wilt
thou think on that day when a crowd shall be assembled, compared with which this immense
multitude is but a drop of a bucket, and God shall read out the story of thy secret life,
and men and angels shall hear it. Certain I am there are none of us who would like to have
all our secrets read, especially our secret thoughts. If I should select out of this
congregation the most holy man, should bring him forward and say, "Now, sir, I know
all your thoughts, and am about to tell them," I am sure he would offer me the
largest bribe that he could gather if I would be pleased to conceal at least some of them.
"Tell," He would say, "of my acts; of them I am not ashamed; but do not
tell my thoughts and imaginations—of them I must ever stand ashamed before God."
What, then, sinner, will be thy shame when thy privy lusts, thy closet transgressions, thy
secret crimes shall be gazetted from God's throne, published by his own mouth, and with a
voice louder than a thousand thunders preached in the ears of an assembled world? What
will be thy terror and confusion then, when all the deeds thou hast done shall be
published in the face of the sun, in the ears of all mankind. O renounce the foolish hope
of secresy, for thy sin is this day recorded, and shall one day be advertised upon the
walls of heaven. II. In the next place, let us notice THE MISERY OF SECRET SINS. Of all sinners the man who makes a profession of religion, and yet lives in iniquity, is the most miserable. A downright wicked man, who takes a glass in his hand, and says, "I am a drunkard, I am not ashamed of it," he shall be unutterably miserable in worlds to come, but brief though it be, he has his hour of pleasure. A man who curses and swears, and says, "That is my habit, I am a profane man," and makes a profession of it, he has, at least, some peace in his soul; but the man who walks with God's minister, who is united with God's Church, who comes out before God's people, and unites with them, and then lives in sin, what a miserable existence he must have of it! Why, he has a worse existence than the mouse that is in the parlour, running out now and then to pick up the crumbs, and then back again to his hole. Such men must run out now and then to sin; and oh! how fearful they are to be discovered! One day, perhaps, their character turns up; with wonderful cunning they manage to conceal and gloss it over; but the next day something else comes, and they live in constant fear, telling lie after lie, to make the last lie appear truthful, adding deception to deception, in order that they may not be discovered. "Oh! 'tis a tangled web we weave, "And sought the black accursed pool, "Then down I cast me on my face, Guilt is a "grim chamberlain," even when his fingers are not
bloody red. Secret sins bring fevered eyes and sleepless nights, until men burn out their
consciences, and become in very deed ripe for the pit. Hypocrisy is a hard game to play
at, for it is one deceiver against many observers; and for certain it is a miserable
trade, which will earn at last, as its certain climax, a tremendous bankruptcy. Ah! ye who
have sinned without discovery, "Be sure your sin will find you out;" and bethink
you, it may find you out ere long. Sin, like murder, will come out; men will even tell
tales about themselves in their dreams. God has sometimes made men so pricked in their
consciences that they have been obliged to stand forth and confess the story. Secret
sinner! If thou wantest the foretaste of damnation upon earth, continue in thy secret
sins; for no man is more miserable than he who sinneth secretly, and yet trieth to
preserve a character. Yon stag, followed by the hungry hounds, with open mouths, is far
more happy than the man who is followed by his sins. Yon bird, taken in the fowler's net,
and labouring to escape, is far more happy than he who hath weaved around himself a web of
deception, and labours to escape from it day by day by making the toils more thick and the
web more strong. Oh! the misery of secret sins! Truly, one may pray, "Cleanse thou me
from secret faults." III. But now, next, the guilt THE SOLEMN GUILT OF SECRET SIN. Now, John, you do not think there is any evil in a thing unless somebody
sees it, do you? You feel that it is a very great sin if your master finds you out in
robbing the till—but there is no sin if he should not discover it—none at all.
And you, sir, you fancy it to be very great sin to play a trick in trade, in case you
should be discovered and brought before the court; but to play a trick and never be
discovered, that is all fair—do not say a word about it Mr. Spurgeon, it is all
business; you must not touch business; tricks that are not discovered, of course you are
not to find fault with them. The common measure of sin is the notoriety of it. But I do
not believe in that. A sin is a sin, whether done in private or before the wide world. It
is singular how men will measure guilt. A railway servant puts up a wrong signal, there is
an accident; the man is tried, and severely reprimanded. The day before he put up the
wrong signal, but there was no accident, and therefore no one accused him for his neglect.
But it was just the same, accident or no accident, the accident did not make the guilt, it
was the deed which made the guilt, not the notoriety nor yet the consequence of it. It was
his business to have taken care; and he was as guilty the first time as he was the second,
for he negligently exposed the lives of men. Do not measure sin by what other people say
of it; but measure sin by what God says of it, and what your own conscience says of it. Now, I hold that secret sin, if anything, is the worst of sin; because
secret sin implies that the man who commits it has Atheism in his heart. You will ask how
that can be. I reply, he may be a professing Christian, but I shall tell him to his face
that he is a practical Atheist, if he labours to keep up a respectable profession before
man, and then secretly transgresses. Why, is he not an Atheist, who will say there is a
God, yet at the same time thinks more of man than he does of God? Is it not the very
essence of Atheism—is it not a denial of the divinity of the Most High when men
lightly esteem him and think more of the eye of a creature than of the observation of
their Creator? There are some who would not for the life of them say a wicked word in the
presence of their minister, but they can do it, knowing God is looking at them. They are
Atheists. There are some who would not trick in trade for all the world if they thought
they would be discovered, but they can do it while God is with them; that is, they think
more of the eye of man than of the eye of God; and they think it worse to be condemned by
man than to be condemned by God. Call it by what name you will, the proper name of that is
practical Atheism. It is dishonoring God; it is dethroning him; putting him down below his
own creatures; and what is that, but to take away his divinity? Brethren, do not, I
beseech you, incur the fearful guilt of secret sins. No man can sin a little in secret, it
will certainly engender more sin; no man can be a hypocrite and yet be moderate in guilt;
he will go from bad to worse, and still proceed, until when his guilt shall be published,
he shall be found to be the very worst and most hardened of men. Take heed of the guilt of
secret sin. AH, now if could I preach as Rowland Hill did, I would make some people look
to themselves at home, and tremble too! It is said that when he preached, there was not a
man in the window, or standing in the crowd, or perched up anywhere, but said,
"There, he is preaching at me; he is telling me about my secret sins." And when
he proclaimed God's omniscience, it is said men would almost think they saw God bodily
present in the midst of them looking at them. And when he had done his sermon, they would
hear a voice in their ears, "Can any hide himself in secret places that I cannot see
him? saith the Lord. Do not I fill heaven and earth? saith the Lord." I would I could
do that; that I could make every man look to himself, and find out his secret sin. Come my
hearer, what is it? Bring it forth to the daylight; perhaps it will die in the light of
the sun. These things love not to be discovered. Tell thine own conscience, now, what it
is. Look it in the face; confess it before God, and may he give thee grace to remove that
sin and every other, and turn to him with full purpose of heart! But this know—that
thy guilt is guilt discovered or undiscovered, and that if there be any difference it is
worse, because it has been secret. God save us from the guilt of secret sin! "Cleanse
thou me from secret faults." IV. And note, next, THE DANGER OF SECRET SIN. One danger is, that a man
cannot commit a little sin in secret, without being by-and-by betrayed into a public sin.
You cannot, sir, though you may think you can preserve a moderation in sin. If you commit
one sin, it is like the melting of the lower glacier upon the Alps; the others must follow
in time. As certainly as you heap one stone upon the cairn to-day, the next day you will
cast another, until the heap, reared stone by stone, shall become a very pyramid. See the
coral insect at work, you cannot decree where it shall stay its work. It will not build
its rock just as high as you please, it will not stay until it shall be covered with
weeds, until the weeds shall decay; and there shall be soil upon it, and an island shall
be created by tiny creatures. Sin cannot be held in with bit and bridle. "But I am
going to have a little drink now and then, I am only going to be intoxicated once a week
or so. Nobody will see it; I shall be in bed directly." You will be drunk in the
streets soon. "I am only just going to read one lascivious book; I will put it under
the sofa-cover when any one comes in." You will keep it in your library yet, sir.
"I am only going into that company now and then." You will go there every day,
such is the bewitching character of it; you cannot help it. You may as well ask the lion
to let you put your head into his mouth. You cannot regulate his jaws: neither can you
regulate sin. Once go into it, you cannot tell when you will be destroyed. You may be such
a fortunate individual, that like Van Amburgh you may put your head in and out a great
many times; reset assured that one of these days it will be a costly venture. Again, you
may labour to conceal your vicious habit, but it will come out, you cannot help it. You
keep your little pet sin at home; but mark this, when the door is ajar the dog will be out
in the street. Wrap him up in your bosom, put over him fold after fold of hypocrisy to
keep him secret, the wretch will be singing some day when you are in company; you cannot
keep the evil bird still. Your sin will gad abroad; and what is more, you will not mind it
some of these days. A man who indulges in sin privately, by degrees gets his forehead as
hard as brass. The first time he sinned, the drops of sweat stood on his brow at the
recollection of what he had done; the second time, no hot sweat on his brow, only an
agitation of the muscle; the third time there was the sly, sneaky look, but no agitation;
the next time, he sinned a little further; and by degrees he became the bold blasphemer of
his God, who exclaimed, "Who am I that I should fear Jehovah, and who is he that I
should serve him?" Men go from bad to worse. Launch your boat in the current—it
must go where the current takes it. Put yourself in the whirlwind—you are but a straw
in the wind: you must go which way the wind carries you—you cannot control yourself.
The balloon can mount, but it cannot direct its course; it must go whichever way the wind
blows. If you once mount into sin there is no stopping. Take heed if you would not become
the worst of characters, take heed of the little sins, they, mounting one upon another,
may at last heave you from the summit and destroy your soul for ever. There is a great
danger in secret sins. But I have here some true Christians who indulge in secret sins. They
say it is but a little one, and therefore do they spare it. Dear brethren, I speak to you,
and I speak to myself, when I say this—let us destroy all our little secret sins.
They are called little and if they be, let us remember that it is the foxes, even the
little foxes, that spoil our vines; for our vines have tender shoots. Let us take heed of
our little sins. A little sin, like a little pebble in the shoe, will make a traveller to
heaven walk very wearily. Little sins, like little thieves, may open the door to greater
ones outside. Christians, recollect that little sins will spoil your communion with
Christ. Little sins, like little stains in silk, may damage the fine texture of
fellowship; little sins, like little irregularities in the machinery, may spoil the whole
fabric of your religion. The one dead fly spoileth the whole pot of ointment. That one
thistle may seed a continent with noxious weeds. Let us, brethren, kill our sins as often
as we can find them. One said—"The heart is full of unclean birds; it is a cage
of them." "Ah, but," said another divine, "you must not make that an
apology, for a Christian's business is to wring their necks." And so it is; if there
be evil things, it is our business to kill them. Christians must not tolerate secret sins.
We must not harbour traitors; it is high treason against the King of Heaven. Let us drag
them out to light, and offer them upon the altar, giving up the dearest of our secret sins
at the will and bidding of God. There is a great danger in a little secret sin; therefore
avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it and shun it; and God give thee grace to overcome
it! V. And now I come, in finishing up, to plead with all my might with some of you whom God has pricked in your consciences. I have come to intreat you, if it be possible, even to tears, that you will give up your secret sins. I have one here for whom I bless God; I love him, though I know him not. He is almost persuaded to be a Christian; he halteth between two opinions; he intendeth to serve God, he striveth to give up sin, but he findeth it a hard struggle, and as yet he knoweth not what shall become of him. I speak to him with all love: my friend, will you have your sin and go to hell, or leave your sin and go to heaven? This is the solemn alternative: to all awakened sinners I put it; may God choose for you, otherwise I tremble as to which you may choose. The pleasures of this life are so intoxicating, the joys of it so ensnaring, that did I not believe that God worketh in us to will and to do, I should despair of you. But I have confidence that God will decide the matter. Let me lay the alternative before you:—on the one hand there is a hour's merriment, a short life of bliss, and that a poor, poor bliss; on the other hand, there is everlasting life and eternal glory. On the one hand, there is a transient happiness, and afterwards overwhelming woe; in this case there is a solid peace and everlasting joy, and after it overflowing bliss. I shall not fear to be called an Arminian, when I say, as Elijah did, "Choose you this day whom you will serve. If God be God, serve him; if Baal be God serve him." But, now, make your choice deliberately; and may God help you to do it! Do not say you will take up with religion, without first counting the cost of it; remember, there is your lust to be given up, your pleasure to be renounced; can you do it for Christ's sake? Can you? I know you cannot, unless God's grace shall assist you in making such a choice. But can you say, "Yes, by the help of God, earth's gaudy toys, its pomps, pageantries, gewgaws, all these I renounce?— "These can never satisfy, "But," says one, "Sir, I intend to be religious, but I do not hold with your strictness." I do not ask you to do so; I hope, however, you will hold with God's strictness, and God's strictness is ten thousand times greater than mine. You may say that I am puritanical in my preaching; God will be puritanical in judging in that great day. I may appear severe, but I can never be so severe as God will be. I may draw the harrow with sharp teeth across your conscience, but God shall drag harrows of eternal fire across you one day. I may speak thundering things! God will not speak them, but hurl them from his hands. Remember, men may laugh at hell, and say there is none; but they must reject their Bibles before they can believe the lie. Men's consciences tell them that "There is a dreadful hell, "The dearest idol I have known, Secret sinner, what will then become of thee? Go out of this place unmasked; go out to examine thyself, go out to bend thy knee, go out to weep, go out to pray. God give thee grace to believe! And oh, how sweet and pleasant the thought, that this day sinners have fled to Christ, and men have been born again to Jesus! Brethren, ere I finish, I repeat the words at which so many have cavilled—it is now, or never, it is turn or burn. Solemnly in God's sight I say it; if it be not God's truth I must answer for it in the great day of account. Your consciences tell you it is true. Take it home, and mock me if you will; this morning I am clear of your blood: if any seek not God, but live in sin, I shall be clear of your blood in that day when the watchman shall have your souls demanded of him; oh, may God grant that you may be cleared in a blessed manner! When I went down those pulpit stairs a Sabbath or two ago, a friend said to me words which have been in my mind ever since—"Sir, there are nine thousand people this day without excuse in the day of judgment." It is true of you this morning. If you are damned, it will be not for want of preaching to you, and it shall not be for want of praying for you. God knoweth that if my heart could break of itself, it would, for your souls, for God is my witness, how earnestly I long for you in the bowels of Christ Jesus. Oh, that he might touch your hearts and bring you to him! For death is a solemn thing, damnation is a horrible thing, to be out of Christ is a dreadful thing, to be dead in sin is a terrific thing. May God lead you to view these things as they are, and save you, for his mercy's sake! "He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved." "Lord, search my soul, try every thought; Doth secret mischief lurk within? |
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Last edited on: Sunday October 28, 2001 E-mail us at: mail@ksb.org.za Return to KSB Home page |
