The fear of Moses was felt at the beginning of his knowledge of God.  When God revealed himself to him at the bush, it was, so far as we are told, the first time that Moses learnt to know him.  The fear of those who say to the mountains, “Fall on us,” is felt at the very end of their knowledge of God; for to those who are punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, God is not.  So that the two cases in the text are exact instances of the difference of which I spoke, in the most extreme degree.  Moses, the greatest of the prophets, fears God at first; those who are cast into hell, fear him at last.

The appearance of God, as described in this passage of Scripture, is an image also of his dealings with us at the beginning of our course, when we fear him with a saving fear.  “The bush burned with fire, but the bush was not consumed.”  God shows his terrors, but he does not, as yet, destroy with them.  It is the very opposite to this at last, for then he is expressly said to be a consuming fire.

Moses turned aside to see this great sight, why the bush was not burnt.  That sight is the very same which the world has been offering for so many hundreds of years:  God’s terrors are around it, but, as yet, it is not consumed, because he wills that we should fear him before it is too late.

There is, indeed, this great difference;—­that the signs of God’s presence do not now force themselves upon our eyes; so that we may, if we choose, walk on our own way, without turning aside to see and observe them.  And thus we do not see God, and do not, therefore, hide our faces for fear of him, but go on, and feel no fear, till the time when we cannot help seeing him.  And it may be, that this time will never come till our life, and with it our space of trial, is gone for ever.

Here, then, is our state, that God will manifest himself no more to us in such a way as that we cannot help seeing him.  The burning bush will be no more given us as a sign; Christ will no more manifest himself unto the world.  And yet, unless we do see him, unless we learn to fear him while he is yet an unconsuming fire, unless we know that he is near, and that the place whereon we stand is holy ground, we shall most certainly see him when he will be a consuming fire, and when we shall join in crying to the mountains, to fall on us, and to the hills, to cover us.

Every person who thinks at all, must, I am sure, be satisfied, that our great want, the great need of our condition, is this one thing—­to realize to ourselves the presence of God.  It is a want not at all peculiar to the young.  Thoughtfulness, in one sense, is indeed likely to come with advancing years:  we are more apt to think at forty than at fifteen; but it by no means follows that we are more apt to think about God.  In this matter we are nearly at a level at all times of our life:  it is with all of us our one great want, to bring the idea of God, with a living and abiding power, home to our minds.