All Rights Reserved By HDM For This Digital Publication Copyright 1993 -- 2003 Holiness Data Ministry Duplication of this CD by any means is forbidden, and copies of individual files must be made in accordance with the restrictions stated in the B4UCopy.txt file on this CD. CULPEPPER SERMONS By John B. Culpepper, And O. B. Culpepper, Father And Son Pickett Publishing Co. Louisville, Kentucky Copyright 1906 By Pickett Pub. Co. * * * * * * * Digital Edition 07/05/2003 By Holiness Data Ministry * * * * * * * CONTENTS 01 -- Value Of The Soul 02 -- Samson 03 -- I Will Be Sorry For My Sin 04 -- The Prodigal Son 05 -- Backsliding 06 -- The Church Walking With The World 07 -- The Rich Fool 08 -- Power 09 -- That Meeting; Or, Are You Prepared? 10 -- The Wandering Lover; Or Christ Enthroned 11 -- Before The Ball 12 -- After The Eagle Screams 13 -- That Black Horse [Of Sin] * * * * * * * FOREWORD Dear Reader: -- This volume of sermons are a few of the many which Rev. Burke Culpepper and I have preached in the South and West, together for the last eight years, and I, before him, for thirty years. Concerning his part, in this humble contribution, I would say that I have known of the origin of each of his sermons, and with a father's pardonable pride, I rejoice in two facts -- First, they are the products of his own brain and heart. Second, God signally uses them, in the salvation of souls. Trusting that you will get a dollar's worth of good out of them, I am, John B. Culpepper. * * * * * * * INSCRIBED To The Twentieth Century Evangelistic Movement. John B. And O. B. Culpepper, Father And Son * * * * * * * 01 -- VALUE OF THE SOUL -- By J. B. C. "For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul, or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul." -- Mark 8:36, 37. With a subject like this, one might talk for days together, and might preach about much connected with every man, woman and child, and everything. But I want to talk about a matter which can be brought within more reasonable limits. I wish to talk about just one thing -- your soul, and one feature of that soul -- its value. And I want to narrow the matter still, and discuss your soul's worth from a constitutional standpoint. If we judge of its value by the treatment it and its claims receive at our hands, we would conclude that it is worth less than anything else, whereas God teaches us that, compared with its high claims and noble destiny, nothing besides has any value. I once read of a nobleman who shipped for this new country, with all of his vast possessions compressed into a jewel of rarest value, which he carefully kept in a well-guarded trunk. On the vessel, a lad passed apples for sale. This nobleman took one, two, three, four, five, six, and kept them bouncing from his palm, in air, to the delight of ladies and gentlemen. They praised his skill until it intoxicated him. Dropping the apples, he brought out this rare jewel, displayed it, then stepped to the edge of the floating vessel, tossed it into the air, caught it -- tossed and caught, until the crowd remonstrated, saying, here, take an apple -- anything, but you might drop that lovely thing. Don't do that. He kept tossing, saying: "I wish to show you what perfect confidence I have in my skill." He tossed and caught, until he tossed and failed to catch. He gasped and caught at, caught at -- as the beautiful jewel, embodying all he owned, dropped into the water below. Two hours later, he was found pacing the deck, smiting his breast and saying, "What a fool I was to risk my all on the idle plaudits of a gazing throng and a passing hour, without any possible gain to me." Ah, me! This tossing act is repeated about us all the time. It is not an apple; neither is it a rare pearl. It is our undying souls and their passing but most precious opportunities. When we look at a human body, we find it fashioned after an intelligent plan, organized. Our feet tell of a path to be trodden; our hands tell of objects to be lifted; our shoulders, of burdens to be borne; our eyes speak of the light. You can reason from a sound to an ear drum; from light and object to the eye. Our whole physical being is adapted to nature about us, and nature is adapted to these organs or members. Just so, we are organized spiritually, or in our souls. As you can reason from the light to the eye, you may reason from a soul to prayer and worship, or from prayer and worship, back to a soul. We find the same fitness; the same eye upon an end in view, in the one case as the other. It is therefore most natural to be religious. A man who cannot be religious is monstrous. Original nature is right nature, religious nature. Man was made to commune with God. Then I predicate righteousness, including the highest worship of the soul, of creation. God made us to be good. In our Bible, it looks sometimes as if the understanding were put for the soul; again the judgment, or power to weigh facts; the will or power to say yes or no; faith, or the power to believe; memory, or the power to retain; conscience, or the "moral sense;" affection, or the power to hate or love. Suppose, for the good of the hour, we make a partial definition of the soul to consist in -- the imagination, understanding, judgment, will, memory, imitative faculty, affectional nature, faith, power, con. science. This will, at least, aid us to some useful studies. * * * The Imagination This is the lowest, or first, faculty. It is the image-in-a-tion -- the image room. It is, here, mother, nurse, nature, hangs the first little pictures, from which come the first thoughts, from which come the first words, from which develop the first acts, from which character is molded, from which destiny is reached. Or if you start with God, you find destiny -- then character, conduct, speech, thought, down -- down back to the image-room whence we started. You hear it said a man can't live right. Fewer believe you can always speak correctly. Still fewer that we can always think as we should. But if the "blood which cleanseth," is let into the image room, and it cleanses, and the walls are beautifully frescoed, and the fresh air from the spice laden gardens of paradise are let in, then right thoughts, speech, conduct, character, Heaven, follows, with the natural sequence of cause and effect. I once read that racy little book, called "Goldfoil." The author tells of a lovely island, washed by waters pacific. Flora and Fauna vied to wear the crown. Fruits in abundance, flowers of every hue, trees from every paradise, blended in one common garden. The moon is large and looks in zenithal wonder down upon this castle of loveliness. A maiden gently steers her wave-kissed keel, drops anchor, and is lost in this labyrinth of bewitchery and beauty -- thinking she is all alone. But along a parallel path, there goes a matron; there goes a lad, and yonder a young husband. They, each ignorant of the presence of the other, claim this garden of delights as all their own. This girl would blush to tell her mother where she spent the last half hour. This old lady would not like to detail her walk of the last hour. This husband would deny to his wife where he spent his time. Where, says Goldfoil, is this isle? "It is the isle of the imagination." It is here, too, Satan gets in his direst work. I beg the young, especially, to keep the image room of the soul clean. * * * The Understanding This is a window. It must be kept open. The mother must be understood by her babe or it will not advance. How the teacher labors to be understood! How dependent I am at this hour upon that window! If you don't understand me, I need not speak. God wants to be understood. The prophets labored to that end. The blessed Christ was a mighty condescending effort on the part of God to be understood. This Bible is written in simple language. Who ever said the ten commandments were above our comprehension? How painfully, but gloriously plain, is the sermon on the mount. Thank God, the waters of salvation burst from the rock, so low that a child can understand, while the philosopher may stoop to slake his thirst. We have fallen upon superficial days. The people are in a hurry. They glance over the paper, skim books, cram on a few specialties at school, rush into business, rush through life, and most of them could say in the hour of death -- I am an agnostic, for I don't know. We read of men, who were lost in thought -- became abstracted -- forgot the passing of time. Such are rare now. We see a little of everything, but know little. The window of the understanding is nearly closed to any given matter, however important. While preaching to you, there sits a young woman who wonders why that young man across there is with another girl tonight. She is recalling all she said and did last night, which may possibly have given offense.