Now, then, how to explain this seeming contradiction?  We can see at once, that these things are not said of the same persons, or rather of the same characters at the same time.  They are said of the same persons:  that is, there is no one here assembled who is not concerned with both, and to whom both may not be applicable.  Only they are not and cannot be both applicable to the same person at the very same time.  If God will be found by us, at any given moment, on our seeking him, it is impossible that, at that same moment, he should also not be found.  Thus far is plain to every one.

And now, is it true of us, at this present time, that God will be found by us if we seek him, or that he will not be found?  If we say that he will be found, then the words of the text are not applicable to us at present, although at some future time they may be; and then we have that well-known difficulty to encounter, to attempt to draw the mind’s attention to a future and only contingent evil.  If we say that he will not be found, then of what avail can it be to say any word more?  Why sit we in this place, to preach, or to listen to preaching, if God, after all, will not be found?  Or, again, should we say that there are some by whom he will not be found, then who are they that are thus horribly marked out from among their brethren?  Can we dare to conceive of any one amongst us that he is such an one; that there are some, nay, that there is any one amongst us, to whom it is the same thing whether he will hear, or whether he will forbear; who may close his ears as safely as open them, because God has turned his face from him for ever?  It were indeed horrible to suppose that any one of us were in such a state; and happily it is a thought of horror which the truth may allow us to repel.

But what, if I were to say, that now, at this very moment, the words of the text are both applicable to us, and not applicable?  Is this a contradiction, and therefore impossible?  Or is it but a seeming contradiction only, and not only possible, but true?  Let us see how the case appears to be.

We should allow, I suppose, that the words of the text were at no time in any man’s earthly life so true as they will be at the day of judgment.  The hardest heart, the most obdurate in sin, the most closed against all repentance, is yet more within the reach of grace, we should imagine, whilst he is alive and in health, than he will be at the day of the resurrection.  We can admit, then, that the words of the text may be true, in a greater or less degree; that they will be more entirely true at the last day, than at any earlier period, but yet that they may be substantially true, true almost beyond exception, in the life that now is.  Now carry this same principle a little farther, and we come to our very own case.  The words of the text will be more true at the day of judgment, than they ever are on earth; and yet on earth they are often true substantially and practically.  And even so, they may be more true to each of us a few years hence, than they are at this moment; and yet, in a certain degree, they may be true at this moment; true, not absolutely and entirely, but partially; so true as to give a most solemn earnest, if we are not warned in time, of their more entire truth hereafter,—­first, in this earthly life; then most perfectly of all, when we shall arise at the last day.