Their Rock is not as our Rock.

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WANT to call your attention to-night to a text which you will find in the thirty-second chapter of Deuteronomy and thirty first verse: "For their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." I wish that this audience for about thirty minutes would just imagine they are sitting in judgment-that each one is sitting upon the case brought up. We want every man, woman and child, in this building to decide the question brought before them. "For their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." This was uttered by Moses in his farewell address to Israel. He had been with them forty years, day and night. He had been the king, or president, or judge, or whatever you may call it; he had been their leader or instructor, in other words he had been a God to them, for all the blessings of heaven came through him. And the old man was about leaving them. He had taken them to the borders of the promised land, and all who had left Egypt with him, but Joshua and Caleb, had been laid in that wilderness. Now he is making his farewell address; and young man, if you have never read it, read it to-night. It is the best sermon in print. I do not know any other sermon in the New or Old Testament that compares with it. His natural activity hadn't abated-he had still the vigor of youth. I can see him as he delivers it: his long white hair flowing over his shoulders, and his venerable beard covering his breast as he gives them the wholesome instruction. Now, I want every one to wake up here. I see one young man over there who has just gone to sleep. All you young men will help me if you see any one next you going to sleep by pinching his elbow. We don't want any one here to sleep. I remember when I was in Boston I fell asleep in church, and a man just pinched me and I rubbed my eyes and woke up. I looked at the minister, and lo and behold, I thought he was preaching directly at me. It seemed as if he knew all about my faults and my disposition, and everything about me. I never felt so cheap in my life. All his remarks seemed to be directed to me, and I wondered who had been telling that minister about me. At the conclusion of the sermon I pulled my coat-collar up and got out as quick as I could.

Now, bear in mind, you men who have gone to sleep are the very men I want to speak to. But let us go back to the subject. The old man was giving his farewell address, in which he said, "This rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." Now I am not going to call upon Christians to settle this question, but the ungodly, the unconverted, must decide this question, and if you be fair with the argument you will have to admit that "your rock is not as our rock;" your peace is not as our peace; because we have got our feet on the rock of Jesus.

You know, in the first place, that the atheist does not believe in any God. He denies the existence of a God. Now, I contend that his rock is not as our rock, and will let those atheists be the judges. What does an atheist look forward to? Nothing. He is taking a very crooked path in this world. His life has been dark; it has been full of disappointments. When he was a young man ambition beckoned him on to a certain height. He has attained to that height, but he is not satisfied. He climbs a little higher, and perhaps he has got as far as he can get, but he is not contented. He is dissatisfied, and if he takes a look into the future he sees nothing. Man's life is full of trouble. Afflictions are as numerous as the hairs of our head, but when the billows of affliction are rising and rolling over him he has no God to call upon, therefore, I contend his "rock is not as our rock." Look at him. He has a child. That atheist has all the natural affection for that child possible. He has a son -a noble young man-who starts out in life full of promise, but he goes astray. He has not the will power of his father, and cannot resist the temptation of the world. That father cannot call upon God to save his son. He sees that son go down to ruin step by step, and by-and-by he plunges into a hopeless, godless, Christless grave. And as that father looks into that grave he has no hope. His "rock is not as our rock." Look at him again. He has a child laid low with fever, racked with pain and torture, but the poor atheist cannot offer any consolation to that child. As he stands by the bedside of that child she says, "Father, I am dying; in a little while I will go into another world. What is going to become of me? Am I going to die like a dumb beast ?" Yes," the poor atheist says, "I love you, my daughter; but you will soon be in the grave and eaten up with the worms, and that will be all. There is no heaven, no hereafter; it is all a myth. People have been telling you there is a hereafter, but they have been deluding you." Did you ever hear an atheist going to his dying children and telling them this. My friends, when the hour of affliction comes they call in a minister to give consolation. Why don't the atheist preach

no hereafter, no heaven, no God, in the hour of affliction? This very fact is an admission that “their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." But look again. That little child dies, and that atheist father follows the body to the grave and lays it down in its resting place and says: "All that is left of my child is there; it will soon become the companion of worms, who will feed upon it. That is all there is." Why, the poor man's heart is broken, and he will admit his "rock is not as our rock." A prominent atheist went to the grave with the body of his friend. He pronounced an eulogy, and committed all that was left of his friend to the winds -to nature-and bade the remains farewell forever. Oh, my friends, had he any consolation then? His rock was not as our rock.

A good many years ago there was a convention held in France, and those who held it wanted to get the country to deny a God, to burn the Bible, wanted to say that a man passed away like a dog-like a dumb animal. What was the result? Not long after, that country was filled with blood. Did you ever think what would take place if we could vote the Bible and the ministers of the gospel and God out from among the people? My friends, the country would be deluged with blood. Your life and mine would not be safe in this city to-night. We could not walk through those streets with safety. We don't know how much we owe God and the influence of His gospel among even ungodly men. I can imagine some of you saying, "Why this talk about atheists? There are none here." Well, I hope there isn't; but I find a great number who come into the inquiryrooms! just to look on, who confess they don't believe in any God or any hereafter.

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But there is another class called deists, who, you know, don't believe in revelation-who don't believe in Jesus Christ. Ask a deist who is his God. Well," he will say, "He is the beginning-He who caused all things." These deists say there is no use to pray, because nothing can change the decrees of their deity; God never answers prayer. "Their rock is not as our rock." In the hour of affliction they, too, send off for some Christian to administer consolation. But there is another class. They say, "I am no deist; I am a pantheist; I believe that God is in the air; He is in the sun, the stars, in the rain, in the water"—they say God is in this wood. Why, a pantheist the other night told me God was in that post; he was in the floor. When we come to talk to those pantheists, we find them no better than the deists and atheists. There was one of that sort that Sir Isaac Newton went to talk to. He used to argue with him, and try to get the pantheist into his belief, but he

couldn't.

In the hour of his distress, however, he cried out to the God of Sir Isaac Newton. Why don't they cry to their God in the hour of their trouble? When I used to be in this city I used to be called on to attend a good many funerals. I would inquire what the man was in his belief. If I found out he was an atheist, or a deist, or a pantheist, when I would go to the funeral and, in the presence of his friends said one word about that man's doctrine they would feel insulted. Why is it that, in a trying hour, when they have been talking all the time against God-why is it that in the darkness of affliction they call in believers in that God to administer consolation?

The next class I want to call attention to is the infidel. I contend his "rock" is not as our "rock." Look at an infidel. An infidel is one who don't believe in the inspiration of Scripture. These men are very numerous, and they feel insulted when we call them infidels; but the man who don't believe in the inspirations of Scripture is an infidel. A good many of them are in the church, and not a few of them have crept into the pulpit. These men would feel insulted if we called them infidels, but if a man says I don't care who he is or where he preaches-if he tries to say that the Bible is not inspired from back to back he is an infidel. That is their true name, although they don't like to be called that. Now in that blessed book there are five hundred or six hundred prophecies, and every one of them has been fulfilled to the letter; and yet men say they cannot believe the Bible is inspired. As I said the other night, those who cannot believe it have never read it. I hear a great many infidels talk against the Bible, but I haven't found the first man who ever read the Bible from back to back carefully and remained an infidel. My friends, the Bible of our mothers and fathers is true. How many men have said to me, "Mr. Moody, I would give the world if I had your faith, your consolation, the hope you have from your religion." Is not that a proof that “their rock is not as our rock ?" Now look at these prophecies in regard to Nineveh, in regard to Babylon, to Egypt, to the Jewish nation, and see how literally they have been fulfilled to the letter. Every promise God makes He carries out. But although infidels prefer their disbelief in the inspiration of Scripture, they do not believe in their hearts what they declare, else why, when we talk with them, if they have any children, do they send them out of the room? Now, not long ago, I went into a man's house, and when I commenced to talk about religion he turned to his daughter and said, "You had better go out of the room; I want to say a few words to Mr. Moody." When she had gone he opened a perfect torrent of infidelity upon me, "Why,” said I,

"did you send your daughter out of the room before you said this?" "Well," he replied, "I did not think it would do her any good to hear what I said." My friends, his "rock is not as our rock." Why did he send his daughter out of the room if he believed what he said? It was because he did not believe it. Why, if I believed in infidelity I would wish my daughters and my sons, my wife, and all belonging to me sharers in the same belief. I would preach it wherever I went. But they doubt what they advocate. If they believed it down in their souls why, when their daughters die, do they send for a true Christian to administer consolation? Why don't they send for some follower of Voltaire, or Hume, or Paine? Why, when they make their last will, do they send for some Christian to carry it out? My friends, it is because their rock has no foundation; it is because in the hour of adversity, in spite of all their boasts of the grandeur of infidelity, they cannot trust their infidel friends. "Their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges."

Now, did you ever hear of a Christian in his dying hour recanting? You never did. Did you ever hear of Christians regretting that they had accepted Christianity, and in their dying hour embracing infidelity? I would like to see the man who could stand and say he had. But how many times have Christians been called to the bedside of an Atheist, or Deist, or Infidel in his dying hours, and heard him crying for mercy? In that hour infidelity is gone, and he wants the God of his father and mother to take the place of his black infidelity. It is said of West, an eminent man, that he was going to take up the doctrine of the resurrection, and show the world what a fraud it was, while Lord Lyttleton was going to take up the conversion of Saul, and just show the folly of it. These men were going to annihilate that doctrine and that incident of the gospel. They were going to emulate the Frenchman, who said it took twelve fishermen to build up Christ's religion, but one Frenchman pulled it down. From Calvary this doctrine rolled along the stream of time, through the eighteen hundred years, down to us, and West got at it and began to look at the evidence; but instead of being able to cope with it he found it perfectly overwhelming-the proof that Christ had risen, that He had come out of the sepulchre, and ascended to heaven and led captivity captive. The light dawned upon him, and he became an expounder of the word of God and a champion of Christianity. And Lord Lyttleton, that infidel and sceptic, hadn't been long at the conversion of Saul before the God of Saul broke upon his sight, and he too began to preach. I don't believe there is a man in the audience who, if he will take his Bible and read it, but will be