DELIVERED ON APRIL 17, 1859

                                                BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON,




                          “Is it not a little one?” — Genesis 19:20.


THESE words we shall take for a motto, rather than a text in the ordinary

acceptation of that term. I shall not this morning attempt to explain the

connection. It was the utterance of Lot, when he pleaded for the salvation

of Zoar; but I shall take it altogether away from the connection in which it

stands, and make use of it in another fashion. The great Father of Lies hath

multitudes of devices by which he seeks to ruin the souls of men. He uses

false weights and false balances in order to deceive them. Sometimes he

uses false times, declaring at one hour that it is too early to seek the Lord,

and at another that it is now too late. And he uses false quantities, for he

will declare that great sins are but little, and as for what he confesses to be

little sins, he makes them afterwards to be nothing at all — mere

peccadilloes, almost worthy of forgiveness in themselves. Many souls, I

doubt not, have been caught in this trap, and being snared thereby, have

been destroyed. They have ventured into sin where they thought the stream

was shallow, and, fatally deceived by its depth, they have been swept away

by the strength of the current to that cataract which is the ruin of such vast

multitudes of the souls of men.

It shall be my business this morning to answer this temptation, and try to

put a sword in your hands wherewith to resist the enemy when he shall

come upon you with this cry; — “Is it not a little one?” and tempt you into

sin because he leads you to imagine that there is but very little harm in it.

“Is it not a little one?”


With regard then to this temptation of Satan concerning the littleness of

sin, I would make this first answer, the best of men have always been

afraid of little sins. The holy martyrs of God have been ready to endure the

most terrible torments rather than step so much as one inch aside from the

road of truth and righteousness. Witness Daniel: when the king’s decree

went forth that no man should worship God for such and such a time,

nevertheless he prayed three times a day as aforetime, with his window

open towards Jerusalem, not fearing the king’s commandment. Why could

he not have retired into an inner chamber? Why might he not have ceased

from vocal prayer, and have kept his petitions in his thought and in his

heart? Would he not have been as well accepted as when he kneeled as

usual, with the window open, so that all the world might see him? Ah! but

Daniel judged that little as the offense might seem, he would rather suffer

death at the jaws of the lion, than he would by that little offense provoke

the anger of his God, or lead men to blaspheme his holy name, because his

servant had been afraid to obey. Mark, too, the three holy children. They

are asked by king Nebuchadnezzar simply to bend the knee and worship

the golden image which he had set up. How slight the homage! One bend

of the knee, and all is done. One prostration, and they may go their way

safely. Not so. They will not worship the golden image which the king has

set up. They can burn for God, but they cannot turn from God. They can

suffer, but they will not sin; and though all the world might have excused

them with the plea of expediency, if they had performed that one little act

of idol worship, yet they will not do it, but would rather be exposed to the

fury of a furnace, seven times heated, than commit an offense against the

Most High. So also among the early Christians. You may have read of that

noble warrior for Christ, Martin Arethusa, the bishop. He had led the

people to pull down the idol temple in the city over which he presided; and

when the apostate emperor Julian came to power, he commanded the

people to rebuild the temple. They were bound to obey on pain of death.

But Arethusa all the while lifted up his voice against the evil they were

doing, until the wrath of the king fell upon him of a sudden. He was,

however, offered his life on condition that he would subscribe so much as a

single half penny towards the building of the temple; nay, less than that, if

he would cast one grain of incense into the censer of the false god he might

escape. But he would not do it. He feared God, and he would not do the

most tiny little sin to save his life. They therefore exposed his body, and

gave him up to the children to prick him with knives; then they smeared

him with honey, and he was exposed to wasps and stung to death. But all

the while the grain of incense he would not give. He could give his body to

wasps, and die in the most terrible pains, but he could not, he would not,

he dared not sin against God. A noble example!


Now, brethren, if men have been able to perceive so much of sin in little

transgressions, that they would bear inconceivable tortures rather than

commit them, must there not be something dreadful after all in the thing of

which Satan says, “Is it not a little one?” Men, with their eyes well opened

by divine grace, have seen a whole hell slumbering in the most minute sin.

Gifted with a microscopic power, their eyes have seen a world of iniquity

hidden in a single act, or thought, or imagination of sin; and hence they

have avoided it with horror, — have passed by and would have nought to

do with it. But if the straight road to heaven be through flames, through

floods, through death itself, they had sooner go through all these torments

than turn one inch aside to tread an easy and an erroneous path. I say this

should help us when Satan tempts us to commit little sins, — this should

help us to the answer, “No, Satan, if God’s people think it great, they

know better than thou dost. Thou art a deceiver; they are true. I must shun

all sin, even though thou sayest it is but little.” It may be further answered,

in reply to this temptation of Satan with regard to little sins, thus: —

“Little sins lead to great ones. Satan! thou biddest me commit a small

iniquity. I know thee whom thou art, thou unholy one! Thou desirest me to

put in the thin end of the wedge. Thou knowest when that is once inserted

thou canst drive it home, and split my soul in twain. Nay, stand back! Little

though the temptation be, I dread thee, for thy little temptation leads to

something greater, and thy small sin makes way for something worse.”

We all see in nature how easily we may prove this, — that little things lead

to greater things. If it be desired to bridge a gulf, it is often the custom to

shoot an arrow, and cross it with a line almost as thin as film. That line

passes over and a string is drawn after it, and after that some small rope,

and after that a cable, and after that the swinging suspension bridge, that

makes a way for thousands. So it is oft times with Satan. It is but a thought

that he would shoot across the mind. That thought shall carry a desire; that

desire a look; that look a touch; that touch a deed; that deed a habit; and

that habit something worse, until the man, from little beginnings, shall be

swamped and drowned in iniquity. Little things, we say, lead on to

something worse. And thus it has always been. A spark is dropped by some

unwary traveler amidst the dry grass of the prairie. It is but a spark; “Is it

not a little one?” A child’s foot may tread it out; one drop from the raincloud

may quench it. But ah! what sets the prairie in a blaze? what bids the

rolling waves of flame drive before them all the beasts of the field? what is

it that consumes the forest, locking it in its fiery arms? what is it that burns

down the habitation of man, or robs the reaper of his harvest? It is this

solitary spark, — the one spark — the breeder of the flames. So is it with

little sins. Keep them back Oh Satan! They be sparks, but the very fire of

hell is only a growth from them. The spark is the mother of conflagration,

and though it be a little one I can have nought to do with it. Satan always

begins with us as he did with Achan. He showed Achan, first of all, a

goodly Babylonish garment, and a wedge of gold. Achan looked at it: was

it not a little thing to do, — to look? Achan touched it: was not that a little

thing? How slight a sin — to touch the forbidden thing! He takes it, and

carries it away to his tent, and — here is worse, — he hides it. And at

length he must die for the awful crime. Oh! take heed of those small

beginnings of sin. Beginnings of sin are like the letting out of water: first,

there is an ooze; then a drip; then a slender stream; then a vein of water;

and then, at last, a flood: and a rampart is swept before it, a continent is

drowned. Take heed of small beginnings, for they lead to worse. There was

never a man yet that came to the gallows but confessed that he began with

small thefts; — the stealing of a book at school — the pilfering, afterwards,

from his master’s till leading to the joining of the gang of robbers, — the

joining of the gang of robbers leading to worse crimes and, at last, the deed

was done, the murder was committed, which brought him to an

ignominious death. Little sins often act as burglars do; — burglars

sometimes take with them a little child; they put the little child into a

window that is too small for them to enter, and then he goes and opens the

door to let in the thieves. So do little sins act. They are but little ones, but

they creep in, and they open the door for great ones. A traitor inside the

camp may be but a dwarf, and may go and open the gates of the city and

let in a whole army. Dread sin; though it be never so small, dread it. You

cannot see all that is in it. It is the mother of ten thousand mischiefs. The

mother of mischief, they say, is as small as a midge’s egg; and certainly, the

smallest sin has ten thousand mischiefs sleeping within its bowels.


St. Augustine gives a picture of how far men will go when they once begin

to sin. There was a man who in argument declared that the devil made flies;

“Well,” said the man with whom he was arguing, “If the devil made flies,

then it is but little more to say the devil made worms!” “Well” said the

other, “I believe it.” “ Well” said the man, “ If the devil made worms, how

do you know but what he made small birds?” “Well,” said the other, “ It is

likely he did!” “Well,” resumed the man with whom he was arguing, “But if

he made small birds, why may he not have made big ones? And if he made

big birds, why may he not have made man? And if he made man, why may

he have not made the world?” “You see,” says St. Augustine, “By one

admission, by once permitting the devil to be thought the creator of a fly,

the man came to believe that the devil was the Creator.” Just get one small

error into your minds, get one small evil into your thoughts, commit one

small act of sin in your life, permit these things to be dandled, and fondled,

favored, petted, and treated with respect, and you cannot tell whereunto

they may grow. They are small in their infancy: they will be giants when

they come to their full growth. Thou little knowest how near thy soul may

be to destruction, when thou wantonly indulgest in the smallest act of sin!

Another argument may be used to respond to this temptation of the devil.

He says, “Is it not a little one?” “Yes,” we reply, “But little sins multiply

very fast.” Like all other little things, there is a marvelous power of

multiplication in little sins. As for murder, it is a masterly sin; but we do

not often hear of it compared with the multitude of minor sins. The smaller

the guilt, the more frequent it becomes. The elephant hath but a small

progeny and multiplieth slowly. But the aphis hath thousands springing

from it within an hour. It is even so with little sins: they multiply rapidly,

beyond all thought — one becomes the mother of multitudes. And, mark

this, little sins are as mighty for mischief in their multitude, as if they were

greater sins. Have you ever read the story of the locusts when they sweep

through a land? I was reading but yesterday of a missionary who called all

the people together when he heard that the locusts where coming up the

valley; and kindling huge fires, they hoped to drive off the living stream.

The locusts were but small; but it seemed as if the whole of the blazing

fires were quenched — they marched over the dead and burning bodies of

their comrades, and on they went, one living stream. Before them

everything was green, like the garden of Eden; behind them everything was

dry and desert. The vines were barked, the trees had lost every leaf, and

stretched their naked arms to the sky, as if winter had rent away their

foliage. There was not then so much as a single blade of grass, or sprig

upon the tree, that even a goat might have eaten. The locusts had done all

this, and left utter devastation in their track. Why this? The locust is but a

little thing! Ay, but in their number how mighty they become! Dread then a

little sin, for it will be sure to multiply. It is not one, it is many of these

little sins. The plague of lice, or the plague of flies in Egypt, was perhaps

the most terrible that the Egyptians ever felt. Take care of those little insect

sins which may be your destruction. Surely if you are led to feel them, and

to groan under them, and to pray to God for deliverance from them, it may

be said that in your preservation is the finger of God. But let these sins

alone, let them increase and multiply, and your misery is near at hand.

Listen not then to the evil voice of Satan when he cries, “Is it not a little



Years ago there was not a single thistle in the whole of Australia. Some

Scotchman who very much admired thistles — rather more than I do —

thought it was a pity that a great island like Australia should be without

that marvelous and glorious symbol of his great nation. He, therefore,

collected a packet of thistle-seeds, and sent it over to one of his friends in

Australia. Well, when it was landed, the officers might have said, “Oh, let it

in; ‘is it not a little one?’ Here is but a handful of thistle-down, oh, let it

come in; it will be but sown in a garden — the Scotch will grow it in their

gardens; they think it a fine flower, no doubt, — let them have it, it is but

meant for their amusement.” Ah, yes, it was but a little one; but now whole

districts of country are covered with it, and it has become the farmer’s pest

and plague. It was a little one; but, all the worse for that, it multiplied and

grew. If it had been a great evil, all men would have set to work to crush it.

This little evil is not to be eradicated, and of that country it may be said till

doomsday, — “Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth.” Happy would it

have been if the ship that brought that seed had been wrecked. No boon is

it to those of our countrymen there on the other side of the earth, but a

vast curse. Take heed of the thistle-seed; little sins are like it. Take care

they are not admitted into your heart. Endeavor to shun them as soon as

Satan presents them. Go, seek by the grace of God and his Holy Spirit to

keep them away; for if not, these little sins will multiply so fast, that they

will be your ruin and destruction.


Once again; little sins, after all, if you look at them in another aspect, are

great. A little sin involves a great principle. Suppose that to-morrow the

Austrians should send a body of men into Sardinia. If they only send a

dozen it would be equal to a declaration of war. It may be said, “Is it not a

little one? — a very small band of soldiers that we have sent?” “Yes,” it

would be replied, “but it is the principle of the thing. You cannot be

allowed with impunity to send your soldiers across the border. War must

be proclaimed, because you have violated the frontier, and invaded the

land.” It is not necessary to send a hundred thousand troops into a country

to break a treaty. It is true the breach of the treaty may appear to be small;

but if the slightest breach be allowed, the principle is gone. There is very

much more in principle than men imagine. In a sin against God, it is not so

much the thing itself as the principle of the thing at which God looks; and

the principle of obedience is as much broken, as much dishonored by a

little sin as by a great sin. O man! the Creator hath made thee to obey him.

Thou breakest his law; thou sayst it is but a little breach. Still it is a breach.

The law is broken. Thou art disobedient. His wrath abideth on thee. The

principle of obedience is compromised in thy smallest transgression, and,

therefore, is it great. Besides, I don’t know whether the things Christian

men call little sins are not, after all, greater than what they call great sins,

in some respects. If you have a friend, and he does you a displeasure for

the sake of ten thousand pounds, you say, “Well, he had a very great

temptation. It is true he has committed a great fault, but still he has

wronged me to some purpose.” But suppose your friend should vex and

grieve your mind for the sake of a farthing; what would you think of that?

“This is wanton,” you would say. “This man has done it out of sheer

malevolence toward me.” Now, if Adam had been denied by his Maker the

whole of Paradise, and had been put into a stony desert, I do not think that,

had he taken all Paradise to himself, there would have been more sin in that

act, than when placed in the midst of the garden, he simply stole one fruit

from the forbidden tree. The transgression involved a great principle,

because he did it wantonly. He had so little to gain, he had so much to lose

when he dishonored God. It has been said, that to sin without temptation is

to sin like the devil, for the devil was not tempted when he sinned; and to

sin with but little temptation is to sin like the devil. When there is great

temptation offered, I do not say there is any excuse, but when there is

none, where the deed is but little, bringing but little pleasure, and involving

but a small consequence, there is a wantonness about the sin which makes

it greater in moral obliquity, than many other iniquities that men commit.

Ay, you cry out against a great felon, when he is discovered; see of how

much he robbed men; see how he wronged the widow and robbed the

fatherless! I know it. God forbid that I should make any excuse for him;

but that man had a name to maintain. He had thousands of temptations

before him to get immensely rich. He thought he never should be

discovered. He had a family to keep. He had got involved in expensive

habits, and there are many things to be said for his extenuation. But you, if

you indulge in some slight sin which brings you no pleasure, which

involves no important interests, by which you have nothing to get, I say

you sin wantonly. You have committed an act which has in it the very virus

and bitterness of wilful obstinate, designing disobedience, because there is

not even the extenuation, or excuse, or apology, that you should gain

something thereby. Little sins are, after all, tremendous sins, viewed in the

light of God’s law. Looked upon as involving a breach of that inviolable

standard of right, and considered as having been committed wantonly, I say

they are great, and I know not that those sins men conceive to be gross and

great, are greater and grosser in reality than these.


Thus I have given you several arguments with which to answer that

temptation, “Is it not a little one?”


Now I am about to speak to the child of God only, and I say to him,

“Brother if Satan tempts thee to say, ‘Is it not a little one?’” reply to him,

“Ah, Satan but little though it be, it may mar my fellowship with Christ. Sin

cannot destroy but it will annoy; it cannot ruin my soul, but it will soon

ruin my peace. Thou sayest it is a little one, Satan, but my Savior had to

die for it, or otherwise I should have been shut out from heaven. ‘That

little one’ may be like a little thorn in my flesh, to prick my heart and

wound my soul. I cannot, I dare not indulge in this little sin, for I have been

greatly forgiven, and I must greatly love. A little sin in others would be a

great sin for me — ‘How can I do this great wickedness and sin against



Is it a little one, Satan? But a little stone in the shoe will make a traveler

limp. A little thorn may breed a fester. A little cloud may hide the sun. A

cloud of the size of a man’s hand may bring a deluge of rain. Avaunt Satan!

I can have nought to do with thee; for since I know that Jesus bled for little

sins, I cannot wound his heart by indulging in them afresh. A little sin,

Satan! Hath not my Master said, “Take us the foxes, the little foxes that

spoil the vines, for our vines have tender grapes.” Lo! these little things do

mischief to my tender heart. These little sins burrow in my soul, and soon

make it to become a very den and hole of the wild beasts that Jesus hates,

soon drive him away from my spirit so that he will hold no comfortable

fellowship and communion with me. A great sin cannot destroy a Christian,

but a little sin can make him miserable. Jesus will not walk with his people

unless they drive out every known sin. He says, “If ye keep my

commandments ye shall abide in my love, even as I have kept my Father’s

commandments and abide in his love.” There are very many Christians in

the world that do not see their Savior’s face by the month together, and

seem to be quite content without his company. I understand you not, nor

do I wish to know how it is, that you can reconcile your souls to the

absence of your Lord. A loving wife, without her husband for months and

years, seems to me to be sorely tried. Surely it must be an affliction for a

tender child to be separated from his father. We know that in our

childhood it was always so, and we looked forward to our return home

with joy. And art thou a child of God, yet happy without seeing thy

Father’s face? What! thou the spouse of Christ, and yet content without his

company! Surely, surely, surely, thou hast fallen into a sad state. Thou

must have gone astray, if such be thy experience, for the true chaste spouse

of Christ mourns like a dove without her mate, when he has left her. Ask,

then, the question, what has driven Christ from you? He hides his face

behind the wall of your sins. That wall may be built up of little pebbles, as

easily as of great stones. The sea is made of drops, the rocks are made of

grains; and ah! surely the sea which divides thee from Christ may be filled

with the drops of thy little sins; and the rock which is to wreck thy barque,

may have been made by daily working of the coral insects of thy little sins.

Therefore, take heed thereunto; for if thou wouldst live with Christ, and

walk with Christ, and see Christ, and have fellowship with Christ, take

heed, I pray thee, of the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines have

tender grapes.


And now, leaving the child of God thus awhile, I turn myself to address

others of you who have some thought with regard to your souls, but who

could not yet be ranked among those that fear God with a true heart. To

you, I know, Satan often offers this temptation — “Is it not a little one?”

May God help you to answer him whenever he thus attacks you. “Is it not

a little one?” And so, young man, the devil has tempted thee to commit the

first petty theft. “Is it not a little one?” And so he has bidden thee, young

man, for the first time in thy life to spend the day of rest in foolish pleasure.

It was but a little one, he said, and thou hast taken him at his word, and

thou hast committed it. It was but a little one, and so you have told a lie. It

was but a little one, and you have gone into the assembly of the frivolous

and mixed in the society of scorners. It was but a little one, there could not

be much hurt in it, it could not do much mischief to your soul. Ah! stop

awhile. Dost thou know that a little sin, if wantonly indulged, will prevent

thy salvation? “The foundation of God standeth sure having this seal, the

Lord knoweth them that are his, and let every one that nameth the name of

Christ depart from iniquity.” Christ will reveal salvation from all his sins to

the man who hates all his sins; but if thou keepest one sin to thyself, thou

shalt never have mercy at his hands. If thou wilt forsake all thy ways, and

turn with full purpose of heart to Christ, the biggest sin thou hast ever

committed shall not destroy thy soul; but if a little sin be harbored, thy

prayers will be unheard, thy sighs disregarded, and thy earnest cries shall

return into thy bosom without a blessing. You have been in prayer lately,

you have been seeking Christ, you have been praying with all your might

that God would meet with you. Now months have rolled over your head,

you are not yet saved, not yet have you received the comfortable assurance

of your pardon. Young man, is it not likely that some little known sin is

still harbored in your heart? Mark, then, God will never be at one with thee

till thou and thy sins are twain. Part with thy sins, or else part with all hope,

though thou hide but so much as a grain of sin back from God. He will not,

he cannot have any mercy on thee. Come to him just as thou art, but

renounce thy sins. Ask him to set thee free from every lust, from every

false way, from every evil thing, or else, mark thee, thou shalt never find

grace and favor at his hands. The greatest sin in the world, repented of,

shall be forgiven, but the least unrepented sin shall sink thy soul lower than

the lowest hell. Mark then, again, sinner, thou who indulgest in little sins

sometimes. These little sins show that thou art yet in the gall of bitterness,

and in the bond of iniquity. Rowland Hill tells a curious tale of one of his

hearers who sometimes visited the theater. He was a member of the

church. So going to see him, he said, I understand Mr. So-and-so, you are

very fond of frequenting the theater. No, sir, he said, that’s false. I go now

and then just for a great treat, still I don’t go because I like it; it is not a

habit of mine. Well, said Rowland Hill, suppose some one should say to

me, Mr. Hill, I understand you eat carrion, and I should say, no, no, I don’t

eat carrion. It is true, I now and then have a piece of stinking carrion for a

great treat. Why, he would say, you have convicted yourself, it shows that

you like it better than most people, because you save it up for a special

treat. Other men only take it as common daily food, but you keep it by way

of a treat. It shows the deceitfulness of your heart, and manifests that you

still love the ways and wages of sin.


Ah, my friends, those men that say little sins have no vice in them

whatever, they do but give indications of their own character; they show

which way the stream runs. A straw may let you know which way the wind

blows, or even a floating feather; and so may some little sin be an

indication of the prevailing tendency of the heart. My hearer, if thou lovest

sin, though it be but a little one, thy heart is not right in the sight of God.

Thou art still a stranger to divine grace. The wrath of God abideth on thee.

Thou art a lost soul unless God change thy heart.


And yet, another remark here. Sinner, thou sayest it is but a little one. But

dost thou know that God will damn thee for thy little sins? Look angry

now, and say the minister is harsh. But wilt thou look angry at thy God in

the day when he shalt condemn thee for ever? If there were a good man in

a prison to-day and you did not go to see him, would you think that a great

sin? Certainly not, you say, I should not think of doing such a thing. If you

saw a man hungry and you did not feed him, would you think that a great

sin? No, you say, I should not. Nevertheless, these are the very things for

which men are sent to hell. What said the Judge? “I was hungry and ye

gave me no meat, thirsty and ye gave me no drink, I was sick and in prison

and ye visited me not. Forasmuch as ye have not done this unto the least of

these, my brethren, ye have not done it unto me.” Now, if these things,

which we only consider to be little sins, actually send myriads to hell, ought

we not to stop and tremble ere we talk lightly of sin, since little sins may be

our eternal destroyers. Ah, man, the pit of hell is digged for little sins. An

eternity of woe is prepared for what men call little sins. It is not alone the

murderer, the drunkard, the whoremonger, that shall be sent to hell. The

wicked, it is true, shall be sent there, but the little sinner with all the nations

that forget God shall have his portion there also. Tremble, therefore, on

account of little sins.


When I was a little lad, I one day read at family prayer the chapter in the

Revelation concerning the “bottomless pit.” Stopping in the midst of it, I

said to my grandfather, “Grandfather, what does this mean — ‘the

bottomless pit?’” He said, “Go on child, go on.” So I read that chapter, but

I took great care to read it the next morning also. Stopping again I said,

“Bottomless pit, what does this mean?” “Go on,” he said, “Go on.” Well it

came the next morning, and so on for a fortnight; there was nothing to be

read by me of a morning but this same chapter, for explained it should be if

I read it a month. And I can remember the horror of my mind when he told

me what the idea was. There is a deep pit, and the soul is falling down, —

oh how fast it is falling! There! the last ray of light at the top has

disappeared, and it falls on — on — on, and so it goes on falling — on —

on — on — for a thousand years! “Is it not getting near the bottom yet?

won’t it stop?” No, no — the cry is, on — on — on, “I have been falling a

million years, is it not near the bottom yet?” No, you are no nearer the

bottom yet: it is the “bottomless pit;” it is on — on — on, and so the soul

goes on falling, perpetually, into a deeper depth still, falling for ever into

the “bottomless pit” — on — on — on, into the pit that has no bottom!

Woe without termination, without hope of it’s coming to a conclusion. The

same dreadful idea is contained in those words, “The wrath to come.”

Mark, hell is always “the wrath to come.” If a man has been in hell a

thousand years, it is still “to come.” As to what you have suffered in the

past it is as nothing, in the dread account, for still the wrath is “to come.”

And when the world has grown grey with age, and the fires of the sun are

quenched in darkness, it is still “the wrath to come.” And when other

worlds have sprung up, and have turned into their palsied age, it is still “the

wrath to come.” And when your soul, burnt through and through with

anguish, sighs at last to be annihilated, even then this awful thunder shall be

heard, “the wrath to come — to come — to come.” Oh, what an idea! I

know not how to utter it! And yet for little sins, remember you incur “the

wrath to come.” Oh, if I am to be damned, I would be damned for

something; but to be delivered up to the executioner and sent into “the

wrath to come” for little sins which do not even make me famous as a

rebel, this is to be damned indeed. Oh that ye would arise, that ye would

flee from the wrath to come, that ye would forsake the little sins, and fly to

the great cross of Christ to have little sins blotted out, and little offenses

washed away. For oh, — again I warn you, — if ye die with little sins

unforgiven, with little sins unrepented of, there shall be no little hell; the

great wrath of the great king is ever to come, in a pit without a bottom, in

a hell the fire of which never shall be quenched, and the worm of which

ne’er shall die. Oh, “the wrath to come! the wrath to come!” It is enough

to make one’s heart ache to think of it. God help you to flee from it. May

you escape from it now, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.


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