Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1401
“By faith Jacob, when he was dying, blessed both the sons of Joseph, and worshiped, leaning on the top of his staff.” Hebrews 11:21.
“When he was dying.” Death is a thorough test of faith. Beneath the touch of the skeleton finger shams dissolve into thin air and only truth remains unless, indeed, a strong delusion has been given—and then the spectacle of a presumptuous sinner passing away in his iniquities is one which might make angels weep. It is hard, very hard, to maintain a lie in the presence of the last solemnities. The end of life is usually the close of self-deception. There is a mimic faith, a false assurance, which lasts under all ordinary heats of trial, but this evaporates when the fires of death surround it.
Certain men are at peace and quiet in their conscience. They stifle convictions, refuse to allow such a thing as self-examination—they count an honest self-suspicion to be a temptation of the devil and boast of their unbroken tranquility of mind. They go on from day to day with perfect confidence, but we would not be of their order. Their eyes are closed, their ears are dull of hearing and their heart has grossly waxen. A siren song forever enchants them with delight, but also entices them to destruction! Terrible will be their awakening when they lie dying—as a dream, their false peace will vanish and real terrors will come upon them.
That expression, “When he was dying,” reminds me of many deathbeds, but I shall not speak of them now, for I desire each one of you to rehearse the scene of your own departure, for soon a tale will be told of everyone commencing with, “When he was dying.” I want each one to project his mind a little forward to the time when he must gather up his feet in the bed, pronounce his last farewell and yield up the ghost. Before your actual departure, probably, there may be allotted to you, unless you are carried away with a sudden stroke, a little time in which it shall be said, “He was dying.” Perhaps it is a desirable thing to occupy some weeks in departure, till the mind seems to have passed through the gate and to be already in Glory, while yet the body lingers here. But as we have had no experience, we are scarcely able to form a judgment.
The text tells us that the Patriarch’s faith was firm while he was dying, so that he poured forth no complaints, but plentiful benedictions as he blessed both the sons of Joseph. May your faith and mine, also, be such that whenever we shall be dying it will perform some illustrious exploit that the Grace of God may be admired in us. Paul does not say anything about Jacob’s life, but selects the death scene. There were many instances of faith in Jacob’s life story, but you remember that in the Epistle to the Hebrews Paul is walking through the histories and plucking a flower here and a flower there. He even complains that time fails him in doing that, so fertile is the garden of faith!
I do not doubt, however, that he gathered the best out of each biography and, perhaps, the finest thing in Jacob’s life was the close of it. He was more royal between the curtains of his bed than at the door of his tent—greater in the hour of his weakness than in the day of his power. The old man of 147 might have been willing to depart through infirmities of age, but yet he had much to keep him below and make him wish to live as long as possible. After a very troublous life he had enjoyed 17 years of remarkable comfort, so much so, that had it been ourselves, we should probably have begun to strike our roots into the soil of Goshen and dread the bare thought of removal.
Yet there sits the venerable Patriarch with his hands on his staff, ready to go, seeking no delay, but rather waiting for the salvation of God. After all his tossing to and fro, when he had been so long a pilgrim, it must have been a pleasant thing for him to have settled down in a fat land with his sons and grandsons—and great-grandsons—all around him! They were all comfortably provided for with Joseph at the head of the whole country—prime minister of Egypt— reflecting honor upon his old father and taking care that none of the family needed anything. The last course of Jacob’s feast of life was by far the sweetest and the old man might have been loathe to retire from so dainty a table!
The children of Israel were a sort of foreign aristocracy in the land and against them a dog would not dare to move its tongue lest the renowned Joseph should put forth his hand. That 17 years must have been bright and full of rest for the old man. But sense has not killed his faith! Luxury has not destroyed his spirituality! His heart is still in the tents where he had dwelt as a sojourner with God. You can see that not even one single rootlet of his soul has taken hold upon Egypt—his first anxiety is to take care that not even his bones shall lie in Goshen—but that his body shall be taken out of the country as a reminder to his family that they are not Egyptians and cannot be made into subjects of Pharaoh—and that Canaan is their possession to which they must go.