Hard Heart

John Newton

That blood which thou hast spilt,

That grace which is thy own,

Can cleanse the vilest sinner’s guilt,

And soften hearts of stone.

George Bowen Daily Meditations, 1873 on Ezekiel 36:26 "I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."

A heart insensible to the Word of God is what is here spoken of. The commands, the promises, the invitations, all fail to make an impression upon one with such a heart; he refuses to see his sin, his helplessness, his danger, his need, the holiness, the grace, the love of God.

The most fearful and also the most shameful condition into which a moral being can fall, the lowest depth that he can reach, is that in which his heart becomes unable to distinguish the voice of God.

(a) A stone is hard. All people know that. It is unyielding, unbending, unimpressible. It may be broken, but it will never bend. The proverb is world-wide, "as hard as a stone". Look at the granite rocks which line the coast of Cornwall. For four thousand years the waves of the Atlantic Ocean have dashed against them in vain. There they stand in their old hardness, unbroken and unmoved. It is just the same with the natural heart. Afflictions, mercies, losses, crosses, sermons, counsels, books, tracts, speaking, writing, all, all are unable to soften it. Until the day that God comes down to change it, it remains unmoved. Well may the natural heart be called a heart of stone!

(b) A stone is cold. There is a chilly, icy feeling about it, which you know the moment you touch it. It is utterly unlike the feeling of flesh, or wood, or even earth. The proverb is in every one’s mouth, "As cold as a stone". The old marble statues in many a cathedral church have heard the substance of thousands of sermons. Yet they never show any feeling. Not a muscle of their marble faces ever shrinks or moves. It is just the same with the natural heart. It is utterly destitute of spiritual feeling. It cares less for the story of Christ’s death on the cross, than it does for the last new novel, or the last debate in Parliament, or the account of a railway accident, or a shipwreck, or an execution. Until God sends fire from heaven to warm it, the natural heart of man has no feeling about religion. Well may it be called a heart of stone!

(c) A stone is barren. You will reap no harvest off rocks of any description. You will never fill your barns with corn from the top of Snowdon or Ben Nevis. You will never reap wheat on granite or slate, on lime-stone or trap-stone, on oolite or sandstone, on flint or on chalk. You may get good crops on Norfolk sands, or Cambridgeshire fens, or Suffolk clay, by patience, labour, money, and good farming. But you will never get a crop worth a farthing off a stone. It is just the same with the natural heart. It is utterly barren of penitence, or faith, or love, or tear, or holiness, or humility. Until God breaks it up and puts a new principle in it, it bears no fruit to God’s praise. Well may the natural heart be called a heart of stone!

(d) A stone is dead. It neither sees, nor hears, nor moves, nor grows. Show it the glories of heaven, and it would not be pleased. Tell it of the fires of hell, and it would not be alarmed. Bid it flee from a roaring lion, or an earthquake, and it would not stir. The Bass Rock and Mount Blanc are just what they were 4000 years ago. They have seen kingdoms rise and fall, and they remain utterly unchanged. They are neither higher, nor broader, nor larger than they were when Noah left the ark. It is just the same with the natural heart. It has not a spark of spiritual life about it. Until God plants the Holy Ghost in it, it is dead and motionless about real religion. Well may the natural heart be called a heart of stone!

John Ruskin, Of The Imaginative and Theoretic Faculties, Part III “Of Ideas Of Beauty”

The angels who rejoice over repentance cannot but feel an uncomprehended pain as they try again and again whether they may not warm hard hearts with the brooding of their kind wings.