NO. 984
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
“thou art beautiful, O my love as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.” — Song of Solomon 6:4.

THERE are various estimates of the Christian church. Some think everything of her; some think nothing of her; and probably neither opinion is worth the breath which utters it. Neither Ritualists, who idolise their church, nor sceptics, who vilify all churches, have any such knowledge of the true spiritual church of Jesus Christ as to be entitled to give an opinion. The king’s daughter is all glorious within, with a beauty which they are quite unable to appreciate. What is usually the most correct character which is obtainable of a woman? Shall we be guided by the praises of those neighbors who are on good terms with her, or by the scandal of those who make her the subject of ill-natured gossip? No; the most accurate judgment we are likely to get is that of her husband. Solomon saith in the Proverbs concerning the virtuous woman, “Her husband also riseth up, and he praiseth her.” Of that fairest among women, the church of Christ, the same observation may be made. It is to her of small consequence to be judged of man’s judgment, but it is her honor and joy to stand well in the love and esteem of her royal spouse, the Prince Emmanuel. Though the words before us are allegorical, and the whole song is crowded with metaphor and parable, yet the teaching is plain enough in this instance; it is evident that the Divine Bridegroom gives his bride a high place in his heart, and to him, whatever she may be to others, she is fair, lovely, comely, beautiful, and in the eyes of his love without a spot. Moreover, even to him there is not only a beauty of a soft and gentle kind in her, but a majesty, a dignity in her holiness, in her earnestness, in her consecration, which makes even him say of her that she is “terrible as an army with banners,” “awful as a bannered army.” She is every inch a queen: her aspect in the sight of her
beloved is majestic. Take, then, the words of our text as an encomium
upon Christ’s church, pronounced by him who knows her best, and is best
able to judge concerning her, and you learn that to his discerning eye she is
not weak, dishonorable, and despicable, but bears herself as one of highest
rank, consciously, joyously strong in her Lord’s strength.

On this occasion let us note, first of all, WHY IT IS THAT THE CHURCH OF GOD IS SAID TO BE AN ARMY WITH BANNERS. That she is an army is true enough, for the church is one, but many; and consists of men who march in order under a common leader, with one design in view and that design a
conflict and a victory. She is the church militant here below, and both in
suffering and in service she is made to prove that she is in an enemy’s
country. She is contending for the truth against error, for the light against
darkness: till the day break and the shadows flee away, she must maintain
her sentinels and kindle her watch fires; for all around her there is cause to
guard against the enemy, and to descend the royal treasure of gospel truth
against its deadly foes. But why an army with banners? Is not this, first of
all, for distinction? How shall we know to which king an army belongs
unless we can see the royal standard? In times of war the nationality of
troops is often declared by their distinguishing regimentals. The grey coats
of the Russians were well known in the Crimea; the white livery of the
Austrians was a constant eyesore in bygone days to the natives of
Lombardy. No one mistook the Black Brunswickers for French Guards, or
our own Hussars for Garibaldians. Quite as effectively armies have been
distinguished by the banners which they carried. As the old knights of old
were recognised by their plume and helmet, and escutcheon, so an army is
known by its standard and the national colors. The tricolor of the French
readily marked their troops as they fled before the terrible black and white
of the German army. The church of Christ displays its banners for
distinction’s sake. It desires not to be associated with other armies, or to
be mistaken for them, for it is not of this world, and its weapons and its
warfare are far other than those of the nations. God forbid that followers of
Jesus should be mistaken for political partisans or ambitious adventurers.
The church unfurls her ensign to the breeze that all may know whose she is
and whom she serves. This is of the utmost importance at this present,
when crafty men are endeavoring to palm off their inventions. Every
Christian church should know what it believes, and publicly avow what it
maintains. It is our duty to make a clear and distinct declaration of our principles, that our members may know to what intent they have come
together, and that the world also may know what we mean. Far be it from
us to join with the Broad Church cry, and furl the banners upon which our
distinctive colors are displaced. We hear on all sides great outcries against
creeds. Are these clamours justifiable? It seems to me that when properly
analysed most of the protests are not against creeds, but against truth, for
every man who believes anything must have a creed, whether he write it
down and print it or no; or if there be a man who believes nothing, or
anything, or everything by turns, he is not a fit man to be set up as a model.
Attacks are often made against creeds because they are a short, handy form
by which the Christian mind gives expression to its belief, and those who
hate creeds do so because they find them to be weapons as inconvenient, as
bayonets in the hands of British soldiers have been to our enemies. They
are weapons so destructive to theology that it protests against them. For
this reason let us be slow to part with them. Let us day hold of God’s truth
with iron grip, and never let it go. After all, there is a Protestantism still
worth contending for; there is a Calvinism still worth proclaiming, and a
gospel worth dying for. There is a Christianity distinctive and distinguished
from Ritualism, Rationalism, and Legalism, and let us make it known that
we believe in it. Up with your banners, soldiers of the cross! This is not the
time to be frightened by the cries against conscientious convictions, which
are nowadays nicknamed sectarianism and bigotry. Believe in your hearts
what you profess to believe; proclaim openly and zealously what you know
to be the truth. Be not ashamed to say such-and-such things are true, and
let men draw the inference that the opposite is false. Whatever the
doctrines of the gospel may be to the rest of mankind, let them be your
glory and boast. Display your banners, and let those banners be such as the
church of old carried. Unfurl the old primitive standard, the all-victorious
standard of the cross of Christ. In very deed and truth — in hoc signo
vinces — the atonement is the conquering truth. Let others believe as they
may, or deny as they will, for you the truth as it is in Jesus is the one thing
that has won your heart and made you a soldier of the cross.

Banners were carried, not merely for distinctiveness, but also to serve the
purposes of discipline. Hence an army with banners had one banner as a
central standard, and then each regiment or battalion displayed its own
particular flag. The hosts of God, which so gloriously marched through the
wilderness, had their central standard. I suppose it was the very pole upon
which Moses lifted up the brazen serpent (at any rate, our brazen serpent is the central ensign of the church); and then, besides that, each tribe of the
twelve had its own particular banners, and with these uplifted in the front,
the tribes marched in order, so that there was no confusion on the march,
and in time of battle there was no difficulty in marshalling the armed men.
It was believed by the later Jews that “the standard of the camp of Judah
represented a lion; that of Reuben, a man; that of Joseph, an ox; and that of
Dan, an eagle. The Targumists, however, believe that the banners were
distinguished by their colors, the color for each tribe being analogous to
that of the precious stone for that tribe, in the breastplate of the high priest;
and that the great standard of each of the four camps combined the three
colors of the tribes which composed it.” So, brethren, in the church of God
there must be discipline — the discipline not only of admission and of
dismission in receiving the converts and rejecting the hypocrites, but the
discipline of marshalling the troops to the service of Christ in the holy war
in which we are engaged. Every soldier should have his orders, every
officer his troop, every troop its fixed place in the army, and the whole
army a regularity such as is prescribed in the rule, “Let all things be done
decently and in order.” As in the ranks each man has his place, and each
rank has its particular phase in the battalion, so in every rightly constituted
church each may, each woman, will have, for himself or herself, his or her
own particular form of service, and each form of service will link in with
every other, and the whole combined will constitute a force which cannot
be broken. A church is not a load of bricks, remember: it is a house builded
together. A church is not a bundle of cuttings in the gardener’s hand: it is a
vine, of which we are the branches. The true church is an organised whole;
and life, true spiritual life, wherever it is paramount in the church, without
rules and rubrics, is quite sure to create order and arrangement. Order
without life reminds us of the rows of graves in a cemetery, all numbered
and entered in the register: order with life reminds us of the long lines of
fruit trees in Italy, festooned with fruitful vines. Sunday-school teachers,
bear ye the banner of the folded lamb; sick visitors, follow the ensign of the
open hand; preachers, rally to the token of the uplifted brazen serpent; and
all of you, according to your sacred calling, gather to the name of Jesus,
armed for the war.

An army with banners may be also taken to represent activity. When an
army holds up its colors the fight is over. Little is being done in military,
circles when the banners are put away; the troops are on furlough, or are
resting in barracks. An army with banners is exercising, or marching, or fighting; probably it is in the middle of a campaign, it is marshalled for
offense and defense, and there will be rough work before long. It is to be
feared that some churches have hung up their flags to rot in state, or have
encased them in dull propriety. They do not fool; to do great things, or to
see great things. They do not expect many conversions; if many did
happen, they would be alarmed and suspicious. They do not expect their
pastor’s ministry to be with power; and if it were attended with manifest
effect they would be greatly disturbed, and perhaps would complain that he
created too much excitement. The worst of it is, that do-nothing churches
are usually very jealous lest any should encroach on their domain. Our
churches sometime ago appeared to imagine that a whole district of this
teeming city belonged to them to cultivate or neglect, as their
monopolising decree might be. If anybody attempted to raise a new
interest, or even to build a preaching station, within half a mile of them,
they resented it as a most pernicious poachings upon their manor. They did
nothing themselves, and were very much afraid lest anybody should
supplant them. Like the lawyers of old, who took away the key of
knowledge, they entered not in themselves, and them that were entering in
they hindered. That day, it is to be hoped, has gone once for all; yet too
much of the old spirit lingers in certain quarters. It is high time that each
church should feel that if it does not work, the sole reason for its existence
is gone. The reason for a church being a church dies its mutual edification
and in the conversion of sinners; and if these two ends are not really
answered by a church, it is a mere name, a hindrance, an evil, a nuisance;
like the salt which has lost its savor, it is neither fit for the land nor yet for
the dunghill. May we all in our church fellowship be active in the energy of
the Spirit of God. May none of us be dead members of the living body,
mere impediments to the royal host, baggage to be dragged rather than
warriors pushing on the war. May we, every one of us, be soldiers filled
with vigor to the fullness of our manhood, by the eternal power of the Holy
Spirit; and may we be resolved that any portion of the church which does
not uplift its banner of service shall not long number us among its
adherents. Be it ours to determine that whether others will or will not serve
God and extend the kingdom of his dear Son, we will, in his name and
strength, contend even to the death. Unsheath our swords, ye soldiers of
the cross; arise from your slumbers, ye careless ones, gird on your swords
and prepare for the war. The Lord has redeemed you by his blood, not that
you might sleep, but that you might fight for the glory of his name.Does not the description, “an army with banners,” imply a degree of
confidence? It is not an army retiring from the foe, and willing enough to
hide its colors to complete its escape. An army that is afraid to venture out
into the open, keeps its banners out of the gleam of the sun. Banners
uplifted are the sign of a fearlessness which rather courts than declines the
conflict. Ho! warriors of the cross, unfurl the gospel’s ancient standard to
the breeze; we will teach the foeman what strength there is in hands and
hearts that rally to the Christ of God. Up with the standard, ye brave men
at arms; let all eyes see it; and it the foemen glare like lions on it, we “will
call upon the Lion of the tribe of Judah to lead the van, and we will follow
with his word like a two-edged sword in our hands: —

“Stand up! stand up for Jesus!
Ye soldiers of the cross!
Lift high hits royal banner;
It must not suffer loss:
From victory unto victory
His army shall he lead
Till every foe is vanquished
And Christ is Lord indeed.”

We cannot place too much reliance in the gospel; our weakness is that we
are so diffident and so apt to look somewhere else for strength. We do not
believe in the gospel as to its power over the sons of men as we should
believe in it. Too often we preach it with a coward’s voice. Have I not
heard sermons commencing with abject apologies for the preacher’s daring
to open his mouth; apologies for his youth, for his assertions, for his
venturing to intrude upon men’s consciences, and I know not what else?
Can God own ambassadors of this cowardly cringing breed, who mistake
fear of men for humility! Will our Captain honor such carpet-knights, who
apologise for bearing arms? I have heard that of old the ambassadors of
Holland, and some other states, when introduced to his celestial majesty,
the brother of the son and cousin of the moon, the Emperor of China, were
expected to come crawling on their hands and knees up to the throne; but
when our ambassadors went to that flowery land, they declined to pay such
humiliating homage to his impertinent majesty, and informed him that they
would stand upright in his presence, as free men should do, or else they
would decline all dealings with him, and in all probability his majesty would
hear from a cannon’s mouth far less gentle notes than he would care for.
Even thus, though we may well humble ourselves as men, yet as ambassadors of God we cannot crouch to the sons of men, to ask them
what message would suite them best. It must not, shall not, be that we shall
smoothe our tongues and tone our doctrines to the taste of the age. The
gospel that we preach, although the worldly wise man despises it, in God’s
gospel for all that. “Ah,” says he, “there is nothing in it: science has
overthrown it.” “And,” says another, “this gospel is but so much platitude;
we have heard it over and over again.” Ah, sir, and though it be platitude
to you, and you decree it to be contemptible, you shall hear it or nothing
else from us; “for it is the power of God, and the wisdom of God.” In its
simplicity lies its majesty and its power. “We are not ashamed of the gospel
of Christ. “God forbid that we should glory, save in the cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ.” We will proclaim it again with confidence; We will bring
forth once more the selfsame truth as of old; and as the barley loaf smote
the tent of Midian, so that it lay along, so shall the gospel overturn its
adversaries. The broken pitcher, and the flaming torches, and the old war
cry, “The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon” shall yet fill the foeman with
dismay. Let us but be bold for Jesus, and we shall see what his arm can do.
The gospel is the voice of the eternal God, and has in it the same power as
that which brought the world out of nothing, and which shall raise the dead
from their graves at the coming of the Son of Man. The gospel, the word
of God, can no more return to him void than can the snow go back to
heaven, or the rain-drops climb again the path by which they descended
from the clouds. Have faith in God’s word, faith in the presence of the
Holy Ghost, faith in the reigning Savior, faith in the fulfillment of the
everlasting purposes, and you will be full of confidence, and like an army
with banners.

Once more, an army with banners may signify the constancy and
perseverance in holding the truth. We see before us not an army that has
lost its banners, that has suffered its colors to be rent away from it, but an
army which bears aloft its ancient standard and swears by it still. Let us be
very earnest to maintain the faith once delivered to the saints. Let us not
give up this doctrine or that, at the dictates of policy or fashion; but
whatsoever Jesus saith unto us, let us receive it as the word of life. Great
injury may be done to a church ere it knows it, if it shall tolerate error here
and there; for false doctrine, like the little leaven, soon leavens the whole
lump. If the church be taught of the Spirit to know the voice of the Good
Shepherd, a stranger it will not follow; for it knows not the voice of
strangers. This is part of the education which Christ gives to his people:“All thy people shall be taught of the Lord.” They shall know the truth, and
the truth shall make them free. May we, as a church, hold fast the things
which we have learned and have been taught of God; and may we be
preserved from the philosophies and refinings of these last days. If we give
up the things which are verily believed among us we shall lose our pourer,
and the enemy alone will be pleased; but if we maintain them, the
maintenance of the old faith, by the Spirit of God, shall make us strong in
the Lord and in the power of his might. Wrap the colors round you, ye
standard bearers, in the day of danger, and die sooner than give them up.
Life is little compared with God’s lovingkindness, and that is the sure
heritage of the brave defender of the faith. Thus resolute for truth, the
church becomes an army with banners.

II. Secondly, the church is said to be TERRIBLE. To whom is she terrible?
She should be amiable, and she is. May God grant that our church may
never be terrible to young converts by moroseness and uncharitableness.
Whenever I hear of candidates being alarmed at coming before our elders,
or seeing the pastor, or making confession of faith before the church, I
wish I could say to them: “Dismiss your fears, beloved ones; we shall be
glad to see you, and you will find your intercourse with us a pleasure rather
than a trial.” So far from wishing to repel you, if you really do love the
Savior, we shall be glad enough to welcome you. If we cannot see in you
the evidence of a great change, we shall kindly point out to you our fears,
and shall be thrice happy to point you to the Savior; but be sure of this, if
you have really believed in Jesus, you shall not find the church terrible to
you. Harsh judgments are contrary to the spirit of Christ and the nature of
the gospel; where they are the rule, the church is despicable rather than
terrible. Bigotry and uncharitableness are indications of weakness, not of
strength.

To what and to whom is the church terrible? I answer, first, in a certain
sense she is terrible to all ungodly men. A true church in her holiness and
testimony is very terrible to sinners. The ungodly care not a rush about a
mock church, nor about sham Christians; but a really earnest Christian
makes the ungodly abashed. We have known some who could not use the
foul language which they were accustomed to when they were in the
presence of godly men and women, though these persons had no authority
or position or rank. Even in the most ribald company, when a Christian of
known consistency of character has wisely spoken the word of reproof, a
solemn abashment comes over the majority of those present; their consciences have borne witness against them, and they have felt how awful
goodness is. Not that we are ever to try and impress others with any dread
of us; such an attempt would be ridiculed, and end in deserved failure; but
the influence which we would describe flows naturally out of a godly light.
Majesty of character never lies in affectation of demeanor, but in solidity of
virtue. If there be real goodness in us — if we really, fervently, zealously
love the right, and hate the evil — the outflow of our life almost without a
word will judge the ungodly — and condemn them in their heart of hearts.
Holy living is the weightiest condemnation of sin. We have heard of an
ungodly son who could not bear to dive in the house where his departed
father had in his lifetime so devoutly prayed; every room, and every piece
of furniture reproved him for forsaking his father’s God. We have read of
others who were wont to dread the sight of certain godly men whose holy
lives held them more in check than the laws of the land. The bad part of
this is that the terror of the ungodly suggests to them an unhallowed retort
upon their reprovers, and becomes the root out of which springs
persecution. Those whom the ungodly fear because they condemn them by
their character, they try to put out of the world if they can, or to bespatter
them with slander if they cannot smite them with the hand of cruelty. The
martyrdom of saints is the result of the darkness hating the light, because
the light makes manifest its evil deeds. There will be always in proportion
to the real holiness, earnestness, and Christ likeness of a church something
terrible in it to the perverse generation in which it is placed; it will dread it
as it does the all-revealing day of judgment.

So is there something terrible in a living church to all errorists. Just now
two armies have encamped against the host of God, opposed to each other,
but confederates against the church of God. Ritualism, with its superstition,
its priestcraft, its sacramental efficacy, its hatred of the doctrines of grace;
and on the other side Rationalism, with its sneering unbelief and absurd
speculations. These, like Herod and Pilate, agree in nothing but in
opposition to Christ; they have one common dread, although they may not
confess it. They do not dread those platform speeches in which they are so
furiously denounced at public meetings, nor those philosophical discussions
in which they are overthrown by argument; but they hate, but they fear,
and therefore abuse and pretend to despise, the prayerful, zealous, plain
simple preaching of the truth as it is in Jesus. This is a weapon against
which they cannot stand — the weapon of the odd gospel. In the days of
Luther it did marvels; it wrought wonders in the days of Whitfield and Wesley: it has often restored the ark of the Lord to our land, and it will again. It has lost none of its ancient power, and therefore is it the terror of the adversaries of Christ.

“Thine aspect’s awful majesty
Doth strike thy foes with fear;
As armies do when banners fly,
And martial flags appear.
How does thine armor, glitt’ring bright,
Their frighted spirits quell!
The weapons of thy warlike might
Defy the gates of hell.”

Even to Satan himself the church of God is terrible. He might, he thinks,
deal with individuals, but when these individuals strengthen each other by
mutual converse and prayer, when they are bound to each other in holy
love, and make a temple in which Christ dwells, then is Satan hard put to
it. O brethren and sisters, it is not every church that is terrible thus, tent it
is a church of God in which there is the life of God, and the love of God; a
church in which there is the uplifted banner, the banner of the cross, high-held
amid those various banners of truthful doctrine and spiritual grace, of
which I have just now spoken.

III. We will take a third point; and that is, WHY IS THE CHURCH OF
CHRIST TERRIBLE AS AN ARMY WITH BANNERS? Why is it terrible because of its banners? The whole passage seems to say that the church is terrible as an army, but that to the fullest degree she owes her terribleness to her banners. “Terrible as an army with banners.” I believe the great banner of
the Christian church to be the uplifted Savior. “I, if I be lifted up from the
earth, will draw all men unto me.” Around him then we gather. “Unto him
shall the gathering of the people be.” As the brazen serpent in the midst of
the camp in the wilderness, so is the Savior lifted high, our banner. The
atoning, sacrifice of Christ is the great central standard of all really
regenerate men, and this is the main source of dismay to Israel’s foes.

But we shall take the thoughts in order. The church herself is terrible, and
then terrible because of her banners. Brethren, the army itself is terrible.
Why? First, because it consists of elect people. Remember how Haman’s
wife enquired concerning Mordecai whether he belonged to the seed of the
Jews; for if he did, then she foretold that her husband’s scheme would
prove a failure. “If Mordecai be of the Seed of the Jews, before whom thouhast begun to fall, thou shalt not prevail against him, but shalt surely fall before him.” Now, the church of God as made up of men and women is nothing more than any other organisation. Look at its exterior, and you see in it few persons of great education and a great many of no education; here and there a wealthy and powerful person, but hundreds who are poor and despised. It does not possess in itself, naturally, the elements of strength, according to ordinary reckoning. Indeed, its own confession is that in itself it is perfect weakness, a flock of sheep among wolves; but here lies its strength, that each of the true members of the church are of the seed royal; they are God’s chosen ones, the seed of the woman ordained of old to break the head of Satan and all his serpent seed. They are the weakness of God, but they are stronger than men; he has determined with the things that are not to bring to nought the things that are. As the Canaanites feared the chosen race of Israel because the rumor of them had gone forth among the people, and the terror of Jehovah was upon them; so is it with the hosts of evil. They have dreamed their dreams, as the Midianite did, and valiant men like Gideon can hear them telling it; the barley cake shall fall upon the royal tent of Gideon and smite it till it lies along; the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon, shall rout the foe. The elect shall overcome through the blood of the Lamb, and none shall say them nay. Ye are a royal priesthood, a peculiar people, a chosen generation; and in you the living God will gloriously declare his sovereign grace.

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