Show me proof that I am saved. Oh! For evidence that I am among God’s people! “The blood shall be a sign for you.” There is none other granted. Look not for a sign within your breast; see it in the blood of Christ. Look not at your feelings, but at His sufferings; not at your joy, but His pain. It would not have been faith but disobedience in Israel to have spent their night in inquiring and looking if the blood marks were upon their house doors. “None of you shall go out of the door of his house until the morning,” God had said. And they sat within and waited for the daybreak.

Are they, whose doors are shut, and who assemble in fear and trembling around their paschal lamb, less safe than their neighbors who calmly wait for liberty’s coming morn as they keep the feast? It is the blood without the door, not the feelings of them within the house, wherein the safety lies. Faith obeyed God, took the blood and sprinkled it, and in the redeeming blood was the security.

But give me evidence that God is satisfied respecting my sins. Heed His words: “When I see the blood, I will pass over you.” His sword of justice has been plunged into the adorable Substitute. His justice asks for no second judgment, no double dying for sin. The very sword which slew the Lamb now shelters those for whom the blood was shed. We once bent over a poor dying man and said, “Friend, you are leaving this world. You will very soon appear before God. How is it about your soul? Where are your sins?” He was too weak to lift a finger, but looked up calmly and whispered, “My sins are under the blood.” He rested in this—that God looks upon the sacrifice of His Son, and not upon the sins of those who put their trust in Him.