Therefore, don't let sinners take courage to think they will be

"Therefore, don't let sinners take courage to think they will be favoured like the thief on the cross; for we see on the other side, they may be like the hardened one, and reproach death itself." — Elias Hicks

Thus spoke Elias Hicks, the Quaker preacher of old, a man whose words burned with the fire of conviction and the compassion of truth. In this solemn warning, he calls the soul to responsibility, to vigilance over its own moral state. His teaching is rooted in the story of the two thieves crucified beside Christ — one repentant, the other defiant. The first, in his humility, found mercy and eternal peace; the second, hardened in pride, met death with scorn and no salvation. Hicks, in his wisdom, urges us not to take comfort in the rare mercy shown to the repentant thief, but to fear the peril of becoming the hardened one. His words are not of condemnation but of awakening — that none may rest in false hope, imagining that grace may be found without repentance, or salvation without change of heart.

When Hicks says, “Don’t let sinners take courage to think they will be favoured like the thief on the cross,” he speaks against spiritual complacency — that deadly illusion that one may live in sin, delay repentance, and still expect mercy in the end. The thief on the cross, in his dying moment, cried out in sincerity, and Christ, reading his heart, forgave him. But such mercy was not guaranteed by circumstance; it was born of genuine contrition and faith. Hicks reminds us that another thief hung beside Christ that day — one who hardened his heart, who mocked even in agony. Both men faced the same death, but their spirits diverged like rivers flowing to separate seas. Thus Hicks warns: do not presume upon divine mercy while the heart remains unyielding, for grace is not a cloak for stubbornness, but a light that shines only upon the humble.

This teaching reflects the core of Quaker faith, from which Hicks arose — a belief not in outward profession, but in the inward transformation of the soul. The Quakers, guided by what they called the “Inner Light,” held that God’s voice speaks to every heart, urging righteousness, peace, and truth. But Hicks saw, even among believers, a dangerous ease — the tendency to delay repentance, to lean on hope without obedience. His warning, therefore, was not to the sinner alone, but to all who forget that spiritual life demands continual discipline and sincerity. Just as a man cannot plant a seed in barren soil and expect harvest, so too one cannot live in moral negligence and expect salvation’s reward. The grace of God is infinite, yes — but it calls for response, for the stirring of conscience and the bending of pride.

There is, in these words, the weight of eternal choice. Every soul, like the two thieves, stands before its own cross — the cross of consequence, of truth, of mortality. In the end, each must choose: to yield or to resist, to soften or to harden. One thief, broken and aware of his guilt, found hope even as the light faded from his eyes. The other, blind with bitterness, cursed the very mercy that stood beside him. Hicks’ wisdom is that we must not gamble our eternity on the assumption that we will be granted the final moment of awakening. For as the body weakens, the habits of the heart grow strong. If we live with pride, we may die with pride; if we live with humility, we may die with peace.

Consider, then, the lesson of King Saul, who once was chosen by God but allowed jealousy and anger to harden his soul. Though grace called to him again and again — through prophets, through friendship, through the voice of his own conscience — he turned away until his heart grew cold. In his final hour, he fell upon his own sword, having forsaken mercy for stubbornness. Compare him with King David, who, though a sinner, wept bitterly for his wrongs and found forgiveness. Both were men of power, both flawed — yet one perished in hardness, the other was redeemed through repentance. Thus, as Hicks declares, the difference between salvation and ruin lies not in the magnitude of sin, but in the softness of the heart that confesses it.

The message, though ancient, remains as vital as ever. In every generation, there are those who live as if they will repent tomorrow — who imagine that mercy will wait upon their convenience. Hicks warns that such thinking is perilous. Life is uncertain; the soul’s condition cannot be postponed. To live rightly is to live awake, to guard the heart against pride, to act with love, humility, and justice now, while the breath of life still flows. To assume salvation without transformation is to risk becoming like the hardened thief, who met death unprepared and scorned the very grace that could have saved him.

So, my listener, take this teaching not as condemnation, but as a call to courage and truth. Do not wait for the final hour to turn your heart toward light; begin today, for every act of humility strengthens the soul, and every act of pride darkens it. Be not afraid of repentance, for it is the path of freedom. And remember — God’s favour is not earned by chance, but received by choice, through sincerity of heart. The mercy shown to the thief on the cross was not an excuse to delay goodness, but a revelation of how quickly grace comes to those who truly seek it.

Therefore, as Elias Hicks warns, let none take false comfort in procrastinated faith. Live with awareness, with humility, and with reverence, that when your own final hour arrives, you may stand not hardened and fearful, but softened and forgiven — ready to meet the smile of the Eternal, who welcomes not the proud, but the penitent and the brave.