Morning, October 13, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For the sorrow that is according to the will of God produces a repentance.” — 2 Corinthians 7:10

Genuine, spiritual sorrow for sin is the work of the Spirit of God. Repentance is too choice a flower to grow in nature’s garden. Pearls grow naturally in oysters, but penitence never shows itself in sinners except when divine grace works it in them. If you have one ounce of real hatred for sin, God must have given it to you, for human nature’s thorns never produced a single fig. “That which is born of the flesh is flesh.”

True repentance has a distinct connection to the Savior. When we repent of sin, we must have one eye upon sin and another upon the cross, or even better still if we fix both our eyes upon Christ and see our transgressions only, in the light of his love.

True sorrow for sin is eminently practical. No man may say he hates sin, if he lives in it. Repentance makes us see the evil of sin, not merely as a theory, but experientially—just as a burnt child dreads fire. We shall be as much afraid of it, as a man who has recently been stopped and robbed is afraid of the thief in the street; and we shall shun it–shun it in everything–not in great things only, but in little things, as men shun little vipers as well as great snakes. True mourning for sin will make us very watchful over our tongue, lest it should say a wrong word; we shall be very watchful over our daily actions, lest in anything we offend, and each night we shall close the day with painful confessions of shortcoming, and each morning awaken with anxious prayers, that this day God would hold us up that we may not sin against him.

Sincere repentance is continual. Believers repent until their dying day. This dripping spring is not intermittent. Every other sorrow yields to time, but this special sorrow grows with our growth, and it is so bittersweet, that we thank God we are permitted to enjoy and to suffer it until we enter our eternal rest.

Evening, October 12, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost.” — John 14:26 (KJV)

This age is significantly the dispensation of the Holy Spirit, in which Jesus encourages us, not by his personal presence, as he shall do eventually, but by the indwelling and constant abiding of the Holy Spirit, who is forever the Comforter of the church. It is his function to console the hearts of God’s people. He convicts of sin; he illuminates and instructs; but still the main part of his work lies in making glad the hearts of the renewed, in confirming the weak, and lifting up all those that are bowed down. He does this by revealing Jesus to them. The Holy Spirit consoles, but Christ is the consolation. If we may use the metaphor, the Holy Spirit is the Physician, but Jesus is the medicine. He heals the wound, but it is by applying the holy ointment of Christ’s name and grace. He revels not in his own things, but of the things of Christ. So, if we give to the Holy Spirit the Greek name of Paraclete, as we sometimes do, then our heart confers on our blessed Lord Jesus the title of Paraclesis. If the one is the Comforter, the other is the Comfort. Now, with such rich provision for his need, why should the Christian be sad and despondent? The Holy Spirit has graciously engaged to be your Comforter: do you imagine, O you weak and fearing believer, that he will be negligent of his sacred trust? Can you suppose that he has undertaken what he cannot or will not perform? If it is his special work to strengthen you, and to comfort you, do you suppose he has forgotten his business, or that he will fail in the loving office which he sustains towards you? No, do not think so little of the tender and blessed Spirit whose name is “the Comforter.” He delights to give the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Trust in him, and he will surely comfort you till the house of sorrow is closed forever, and the marriage feast has begun.

Editor’s note: The word “Paraclete,” translated here “comforter,” is nearly universally translated “helper” or “advocate” (in a legal sense, as an attorney before a judge) today. The word is somewhat obscure, but Jesus makes the role of the Holy Spirit clear: “He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you.”

Morning, October 12, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I will meditate on your precepts.”– Psalm 119:15

There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We would be better Christians if we spent more time alone, waiting upon God, and gathering spiritual strength for labor in his service through meditation on his Word. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because there we get the real nutrition out of them. Truth is something like a cluster of the grapevine: if we would have wine from it, we must bruise it; we must press and squeeze it many times. The stomper’s feet must come down joyfully upon the bunches, or else the juice will not flow; and they must tread well the grapes, or else much of the precious liquid will be wasted. So, we also must by meditation tread the clusters of truth, if we would get the wine of comfort from them. Our bodies are not supported by merely taking food into the mouth, but the process which really supplies the muscle, and the nerves, and the sinews, and the bones, is the process of digestion. It is by digestion that the outward food becomes assimilated with the inner life. Our souls are not nourished merely by listening for a while to this, and then to that, and then to another part of divine truth. Hearing, reading, observing, and learning, all require inward digestion to complete their usefulness, and the inward digestion of the truth lies — for the most part — in meditating upon it. Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make only slow advances in the spiritual life? It is because they neglect their quiet places, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God’s Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would receive the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such foolishness deliver us, O Lord, and let this be our resolve this morning, “I will meditate on your precepts.”

Evening, October 11, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And these whom He predestined, He also called.” — Romans 8:30

In the second epistle to Timothy, first chapter, and ninth verse, are these words–“Who has saved us, and called us with a holy calling.” Now, here is a criterion by which we may try our calling. It is “a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace.” This calling forbids all trust in our own doings, and shepherds us to Christ alone for salvation, but it afterwards purges us from dead works to serve the living and true God. As he that has called you is holy, so must you be holy. If you are living in sin, you are not called, but if you are truly Christ’s, you can say, “Nothing pains me so much as sin; I desire to be rid of it; Lord, help me to be holy.” Is this the passion of your heart? Is this the tenor of thy life towards God, and his divine will? Again, in Philippians, 3:13,14, we are told of “The upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Is then your calling a high calling? Has it improved up your heart, and set it upon heavenly things? Has it elevated your hopes, your tastes, your desires? Has it upraised the constant tenor of your life, so that you spend it with God and for God? Another test we find in Hebrews 3:1–“Partakers of the heavenly calling.” Heavenly calling means a call from heaven. If man alone calls you, you have not been called. Is your calling of God? Is it a call to heaven as well as from heaven? Unless you are a stranger here, and heaven is your home, you have not been called with a heavenly calling; for those who have been so called, declare that they look for a city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God, and they themselves are strangers and pilgrims upon the earth. Is your calling thus holy, high, heavenly? Then, beloved, you have been called of God, for such is the calling by which God calls his people.

Morning, October 11, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“We lift up our heart and hands toward God in heaven.” — Lamentations 3:41

The act of prayer teaches us our unworthiness, which is a very beneficial lesson for such proud beings as we are. If God gave us favors without constraining us to pray for them we should never know how poor we are, but a true prayer is an inventory of wants, a catalogue of necessities, a revelation of hidden poverty. While it is an application to divine wealth, it is a confession of human emptiness. The healthiest state of a Christian is to be always empty of self and constantly depending upon the Lord for supply; to be always poor in himself and rich in Jesus; weak as water personally, but mighty through God to do great exploits; hence the value of prayer, because, while it adores God, it lays the creature where it should be, in the very dust. Prayer is in itself — apart from the answer which it brings — a great benefit to the Christian. As the runner gains strength for the race by daily exercise, so for the great race of life we acquire energy by the holy labor of prayer. Prayer preens the wings of God’s young eaglets, that they may learn to mount above the clouds. Prayer girds the waists of God’s warriors, and sends them forth to combat with their sinews braced and their muscles firm. An earnest pleader comes out of his closet, even as the sun rises from the chambers of the east, rejoicing like a strong man to run his race. Prayer is that uplifted hand of Moses which routs the Amalekites more than the sword of Joshua; it is the arrow shot from the chamber of the prophet foreboding defeat to the Syrians. Prayer encircles human weakness with divine strength, turns human folly into heavenly wisdom, and gives to troubled mortals the peace of God. We do not know anything prayer cannot do! We thank you, great God, for the mercy-seat of prayer, a special proof of your marvelous lovingkindness. Help us to use it rightly and often throughout this day!

Evening, October 10, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“So I will deliver you from the hand of the wicked, And I will redeem you from the grasp of the violent.”– Jeremiah 15:21

Note the glorious person making the promise. “I will, I will.” The Lord Jehovah himself intervenes to deliver and redeem his people. He pledges himself personally to rescue them. His own arm shall do it, that he may have the glory. Not a word is said here of any effort of our own which may be needed to assist the Lord. Neither our strength nor our weakness is taken into the account, but the lone “I,” like the sun in the heavens, shines out resplendent in all-sufficiency. Why then do we calculate our resources, and consult with flesh and blood to our grave injury? Jehovah has power enough without borrowing from our puny arm. Peace, my unbelieving thoughts, be still, and know that the Lord reigns. Nor is there a hint concerning secondary methods and causes. The Lord says nothing of friends and helpers: he undertakes the work alone, and feels no need of human arms to aid him. All our looking around to companions and relatives is vain ; they are broken reeds if we lean upon them–often unwilling when able, and unable when they are willing. Since the promise comes alone from God, it would be well to wait only upon him; and when we do so, our expectation never fails us. Who are the wicked that we should fear them? The Lord will utterly consume them; they are to be pitied rather than feared. As for violent ones, they are only terrors to those who have no God to run to, for when the Lord is on our side, whom shall we fear? If we run into sin to please the wicked, we have cause to be alarmed, but if we hold fast to our integrity, the rage of tyrants shall be overruled for our good. When the fish swallowed Jonah, he found in him a morsel which he could not digest; and when the world devours the church, it is glad to be rid of it again. In all times of fiery trial, in patience let us maintain quiet in our souls.

Morning, October 10, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“In the presence of His glory blameless with great joy.” — Jude 24

Ponder in your mind that wondrous word, “blameless!” We are far removed from it now; but since our Lord never stops short of perfection in his work of love, we shall reach it one day. The Savior who will keep his people to the end, will also present them at last to himself, as “the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but  holy and blameless.” All the jewels in the Savior’s crown are of the greatest brilliance and transparency and without a single flaw. All the maids of honor who attend the Lamb’s wife are pure virgins without spot or wrinkle. But how will Jesus make us blameless? He will wash us from our sins in his own blood until we are white and fair as God’s purest angel; and we shall be clothed in his righteousness, that righteousness which makes the saint who wears it positively blameless; yes, perfect in the sight of God. We shall be unblameable and beyond reproof even in his eyes. His law will not only have no charge against us, but it will be magnified in us. Moreover, the work of the Holy Spirit within us will be altogether complete. He will make us so perfectly holy, that we shall have no lingering tendency to sin. Judgment, memory, will–every power and passion shall be liberated from the thrall of evil. We shall be holy even as God is holy, and in his presence we shall dwell forever. Saints will not be out of place in heaven, their beauty will be as great as that of the place prepared for them. Oh, the euphoria of that hour when the everlasting doors shall be lifted up, and we, being made conformed for the inheritance, shall dwell with the saints in light. Sin gone, Satan shut out, temptation past forever, and ourselves “blameless” before God, this will be heaven indeed! Let us be joyful now as we rehearse the song of eternal praise which so soon is to to roll forth in full chorus from all the blood-washed host; let us copy David’s exulting before the ark as a prelude to our elation before the throne.

Evening, October 9, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“But he did not answer her a word.” — Matthew 15:23

Genuine seekers who as yet have not obtained the request, may take comfort from the story before us. The Savior did not at once bestow the blessing, even though the woman had great faith in him. He intended to give it, but he waited awhile. “He did not answer her a word.” Were not her prayers good? Never better in the world. Was not her case needy? Sorrowfully needy. Did she not feel her need intensely enough? She felt it overwhelmingly. Was she not earnest enough? She was intensely so. Had she no faith? She had such a high degree of it that even Jesus wondered, and said, “O woman, great is your faith.” See then, although it is true that faith brings peace, yet it does not always bring it instantaneously. There may be certain reasons calling for the trial of faith, rather than the reward of faith. Genuine faith may be in the soul like a hidden seed, but as yet it may not have budded and blossomed into joy and peace. A painful silence from the Savior is a terrible trial of many a seeking soul, but heavier still is the affliction of a harsh, cutting reply such as this, ” It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” Many in waiting upon the Lord find immediate joy, but this is not the case with all. Some, like the jailer, are in a moment turned from darkness to light, but others are plants of slower growth. A deeper sense of sin may be given to you instead of a sense of pardon, and in such a case you will have need of patience to bear the heavy blow. Ah! Poor heart, though Christ beat and bruise you, or even slay you, trust him; though he only should give you an angry word, believe in the love of his heart. Do not, I beseech you, give up seeking or trusting my Master, because you have not yet obtained the conscious joy which you long for. Cast yourself on him, persevere, and depend on him even where you can not rejoice and hope.

Morning, October 9, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Able to keep you from stumbling.” — Jude 24

In some sense the path to heaven is very safe, but in other respects there is no road so dangerous. It is beset with difficulties. One false step (and how easy it is to take that, if grace is absent), and down we go. What a slippery path it is which some of us must tread! How many times have we to exclaim with the Psalmist, “My feet were almost gone, my steps had nearly slipped.” If we were strong, sure-footed mountaineers, this would not matter so much; but in ourselves, how weak we are! In the best roads we soon falter, in the smoothest paths we quickly stumble. These feeble knees of ours can scarcely support our tottering weight. A straw may throw us, and a pebble can wound us; we are mere children fumblingly taking our first steps in the walk of faith; our heavenly Father holds us by the arms or we should soon be down. Oh, if we are kept from falling, how must we bless the patient power which watches over us day by day! Think, how prone we are to sin, how apt to choose danger, how strong our tendency to cast ourselves down, and these reflections will make us sing more agreeably than we have ever done, “Glory be to him, who is able to keep us from falling.” We have many foes who try to push us down. The road is rough and we are weak, but in addition to this, enemies lurk in ambush, who rush out when we least expect them, and labor to trip us up, or hurl us down the nearest precipice. Only an Almighty arm can preserve us from these unseen adversaries, who are seeking to destroy us. Such an arm is engaged for our defense. He is faithful that has promised, and he is able to keep us from falling, so that with a deep sense of our utter weakness, we may cherish a firm belief in our perfect safety, and say, with joyful confidence,

“Against me earth and hell combine,

But on my side is power divine;

Jesus is all, and he is mine!”

Evening, October 8, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Praying in the Holy Spirit.” — Jude 20

Mark the grand characteristic of true prayer–“In the Holy Spirit.” The seed of acceptable devotion must come from heaven’s storehouse. Only the prayer which comes from God can go to God. We must shoot the Lord’s arrows back to him. That desire which he writes upon our heart will move his heart and bring down a blessing, but the desires of the flesh have no power with him.

Praying in the Holy Spirit is praying in fervency. Cold prayers ask the Lord not to hear them. Those who do not plead with fervency, do not plead not at all. You may as well speak of lukewarm fire as of lukewarm prayer–it is essential that it be red hot.

It is praying perseveringly. The true supplicant gathers force as he proceeds, and grows more fervent when God delays to answer. The longer the gate is closed, the more vehemently does he use the knocker, and the longer the angel lingers the more resolved is he that he will never let him go without the blessing. Tearful, agonizing, unconquerable insistence is beautiful in God’s sigh.

It means praying humbly, for the Holy Spirit never puffs us up with pride. It is his office to convict of sin, and so to bow us down in contrition and brokenness of spirit. We shall never sing Gloria in Excelsis except we pray to God De Profundis: out of the depths must we cry, or we shall never behold glory in the highest.

It is praying in love. Prayer should be perfumed with love, saturated with love–love to our fellow saints, and love to Christ.

Moreover, it must be a prayer full of faith. A man prevails only as he believes. The Holy Spirit is the author of faith, and strengthens it, so that we pray believing God’s promise. Oh, that this blessed combination of excellent graces, priceless and sweet as the spices of the merchant, might be fragrant within us because the Holy Spirit is in our hearts! Most blessed Comforter, exert your mighty power within us, helping our weaknesses in prayer.

Morning, October 8, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Put off into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” — Luke 5:4

We learn from this narrative the necessity of human agency. The catch of fish was miraculous, yet neither the fisherman. nor his boat, nor his fishing tackle were ignored; all were used to take in the fish. So also, in the saving of souls, God works by methods; and while the present system of grace shall stand, God will be pleased by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe. When God works without instruments, it is doubtless true he is glorified; but he has himself selected the plan of using instruments as that by which he is most magnified in the earth. Methods of themselves are utterly unavailing. “Master, we have toiled all the night and have taken nothing.” What was the reason of this? Were they not fishermen plying their special calling? Indeed, they were no novices; they understood the work. Had they gone about the work unskillfully? No. Had they lacked industry? No, they had labored much. Had they lacked perseverance? No, they had worked all the night. Was there an absence of fish in the sea? Certainly not, for as soon as the Master came, they swam to the net in shoals. What, then, is the reason? Is it because there is no power in the methods of themselves, apart from the presence of Jesus? “Without him we can do nothing.” But with Christ we can do all things. Christ’s presence grants success. Jesus sat in Peter’s boat, and his will, by a mysterious influence, drew the fish to the net. When Jesus is lifted up in his Church, his presence is the Church’s power–the shout of a king is in the midst of her. “I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men to me.” Let us go out this morning on our work of fishing for souls, looking up in faith, and around us in solemn concern. Let us work until night comes, and we shall not labor in vain, for he who calls us to let down the net, will fill it with fishes.

Evening, October 7, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Now on whom do you trust?” — Isaiah 36:5

Reader, this is an important question. Listen to the Christian’s answer, and see if it is yours. “On whom do you trust?” “I trust,” says the Christian, “in a triune God. I trust the Father, believing that he has chosen me from before the foundations of the world; I trust him to provide for me in his foresight, to teach me, to guide me, to correct me if need be, and to bring me home to his own house where many dwelling places are. I trust the Son. Genuine God of genuine God is he–the man Christ Jesus. I trust in him to take away all my sins by his own sacrifice, and to clothe me with his perfect righteousness. I trust him to be my Intercessor, to present my prayers and desires before his Father’s throne, and I trust him to be my Advocate at the last great day, to plead my cause, and to justify me. I trust him for what he is, for what he has done, and for what he has promised yet to do. And I trust the Holy Spirit–he has begun to save me from my inherited sins; I trust him to drive them all out; I trust him to curb my temper, to subdue my will, to enlighten my understanding, to check my desires, to comfort my depression, to help my weakness, to illuminate my darkness; I trust him to dwell in me as my life, to reign in me as my King, to sanctify me wholly, spirit, soul, and body, and then to take me up to dwell with the saints in light forever.”

Oh, blessed trust! To trust him whose power will never be exhausted, whose love will never fade, whose kindness will never change, whose faithfulness will never fail, whose wisdom will never be challenged, and whose perfect goodness can never know a lessening! Happy are you, reader, if this trust is yours! So trusting, you shall enjoy precious peace now, and glory to come, and the foundation of your trust shall never be removed.

Morning, October 7, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Why have You been so hard on Your servant?” — Numbers 11:11

Our heavenly Father sends us frequent troubles to try our faith. If our faith is worth anything, it will stand the test. Gilt is afraid of fire, but gold is not: the costume gem dreads to be touched by the diamond, but the true jewel fears no test. It is a poor faith which can only trust God when friends are true, the body full of health, and the business profitable; but that is true faith which holds by the Lord’s faithfulness when friends are gone, when the body is sick, when spirits are depressed, and the light of our Father’s face is hidden. A faith which can say, in the direst trouble, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,” is heaven-born faith. The Lord afflicts his servants to glorify himself, for he is greatly glorified in the graces of his people, which are his own handiwork. When “tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope,” the Lord is honored by these growing virtues. We should never know the music of the harp if the strings were left untouched; nor enjoy the juice of the grape if it were not trampled in the winepress; nor discover the sweet perfume of cinnamon if it were not pressed and beaten; nor feel the full warmth of fire if the coals were not utterly consumed. The wisdom and power of the great Workman are discovered by the trials through which his vessels of mercy are permitted to pass. Present afflictions tend also to heighten future joy. There must be shade in the picture to bring out the beauty of the light. Could we be so supremely blessed in heaven, if we had not known the curse of sin and the sorrow of earth? Will not peace be more precious after conflict, and rest more welcome after toil? Will not the recollection of past sufferings enhance the enjoyment of the glorified? There are many other comfortable answers to the question with which we opened our brief meditation; let us muse upon it all day long.

Evening, October 6, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He had married an Cushite woman.” — Numbers 12:1

It was a unexpected choice of Moses to marry a foreigner, and one dark skinned, but how much more unexpected is the choice of him who is a prophet likened to Moses, and greater than he! Our Lord, who is pure and fair as the lily, has entered into marriage union with one who confesses herself to have a darkened heart, burned by sin as the sun burns the skin. It is the wonder of angels that the love of Jesus should be set upon poor, lost, guilty men. Each believer must, when filled with a sense of Jesus’ love, be also overwhelmed with astonishment that such love should be lavished on an object so utterly unworthy of it. Knowing as we do our secret guiltiness, unfaithfulness, and dark nature, we are softened in grateful admiration of the matchless liberty and sovereignty of grace. Jesus must have found the source of his love in his own heart; he could not have found it in us, for it is not there. Even since our conversion we have been unsightly and dark-hearted, though grace has made us attractive. The godly Samuel Rutherford said of himself what we must each subscribe to: “His relation to me is, that I am sick, and he is the Physician of whom I stand in need. Alas! how often I play fast and loose with Christ! He binds, I loose; he builds, I cast down; I quarrel with Christ, and he harmonizes with me twenty times a day!” Oh, most tender and faithful Husband of our souls, pursue your gracious work of conforming us to your image, until you shall present even us poor foreigners to yourself, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing. Moses met with opposition because of his marriage, and both himself and his spouse were the subjects of an evil eye. Should we be surprised that this proud world opposes Jesus and his spouse, and especially when great sinners are converted? For this is always the Pharisee’s ground of objection, “This man receives sinners.” Even still is the old cause of quarrels revived, “Because he had married an Cushite woman.”

Morning, October 6, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst.” — John 4:14

He who is a believer in Jesus finds enough in his Lord to satisfy him now, and to make him content forever. The believer is not a man whose days are weary for lack of comfort, and whose nights are long from absence of thoughts to cheer the heart, for he finds in his religion such a spring of joy, such a fountain of comfort, that he is content and happy. Put him in a dungeon and he will find good company; place him in a barren wilderness, he will eat the bread of heaven; drive him away from friendship, he will meet the “friend that sticks closer than a brother.” Destroy all his shade, and he will find shadow beneath the Rock of Ages; eat away the foundation of his earthly hopes, but his heart will still be fixed, trusting in the Lord. The heart is as ravenous as the grave till Jesus enters it, and then it is a cup filled to overflowing. There is such a fullness in Christ that he alone is the believer’s all. The true saint is so completely satisfied with the all-sufficiency of Jesus that he thirsts no more–except for deeper mouthfuls of the living fountain. In that sweet manner, believer, you shall thirst; it shall not be a thirst of pain, but of loving desire;  you will find it a sweet thing to be gasping after a fuller enjoyment of Jesus’ love. One in the days of old said, “I have been sinking my bucket down into the well to fill it often, but now my thirst after Jesus has become so unquenchable, that I long to put the well itself to my lips, and drink right on.” Is this the feeling of your heart now, believer? Do you feel that all your desires are satisfied in Jesus, and that you have nothing you want now, but to know more of him, and to have closer fellowship with him? Then come continually to the fountain, and take of the water of life freely. Jesus will never think you take too much, but will ever welcome you, saying, “Drink, yes, drink abundantly, O beloved.”

Evening, October 5, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He who has believed and has been baptized shall be saved.” — Mark 16:16

The missionary John MacDonald asked the inhabitants of the island of St. Kilda how a man must be saved. An old man replied, “We shall be saved if we repent, and forsake our sins, and turn to God.” “Yes,” said a middle-aged female, “and with a true heart too.” “Aye,” rejoined a third, “and with prayer”; and, added a fourth, “It must be the prayer of the heart.” “And we must be diligent too,” said a fifth, “in keeping the commandments.” Thus, they each having contributed his little bit and feeling that a very decent creed had been made up, all looked and listened for the preacher’s approval, but they had aroused his deepest pity. The natural mind always maps out for itself a way in which we can work and become great, but the Lord’s way is quite the reverse. Believing and being baptized are no matters of self-merit to be gloried in–they are so simple that boasting is excluded, and free grace has the preeminence. It may be that the reader is unsaved–what is the reason? Do you think the way of salvation as laid down in the Bible text to be dubious? How can that be when God has pledged his own word for its certainty? Do you think it too easy? Why, then, do you not attend to it? Its ease leaves those who neglect it without excuse. To believe is simply to trust, to depend, to rely upon Christ Jesus. To be baptized is to submit to the ordinance which our Lord fulfilled at Jordan, to which the converted ones submitted at Pentecost, to which the jailer yielded obedience the very night of his conversion. The outward sign does not save, but it sets forth to us our death, burial, and resurrection with Jesus, and, like the Lord’s Supper, is not to be neglected. Reader, do you believe in Jesus? Then, dear friend, dismiss your fears, you shall be saved. If you are still an unbeliever, then remember there is but one door, and if you will not enter by it you will perish in your sins.

St. Kilda, Scotland

Morning, October 5, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“So he arose and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights.” — 1 Kings 19:8

All the strength supplied to us by our gracious God is meant for service, not for immorality or boasting. When the prophet Elijah laid under the juniper tree and found the cake baked on the coals, and the jar of water placed at his head, he was no aristocrat to be content with delicate fare that he might stretch himself at his ease; rather otherwise, he was commissioned to go forty days and forty nights in the strength of it, journeying towards Horeb, the mountain of God. When the Master invited the disciples to “Come and dine” with him, after the feast was concluded he said to Peter, “Feed my sheep,” further adding, “Follow me.” Even so it is with us; we eat the bread of heaven, that we may expend our strength in the Master’s service. We come to the Passover, and eat of the paschal lamb with hips belted, and staff in hand, so as to start off at once when we have satisfied our hunger. Some Christians are fine for living on Christ, but are not so anxious to live for Christ. Earth should be a preparation for heaven; and heaven is the place where believers feast most and work most. They sit down at the table of our Lord, and they serve him day and night in his temple. They eat of heavenly food and render perfect service. Believer, in the strength you gain daily from Christ, labor for him. Some of us have yet to learn much concerning the strategy of our Lord in giving us his grace. We are not to retain the precious grains of truth as an Egyptian mummy held the wheat for ages, without giving it an opportunity to grow: we must sow it and water it. Why does the Lord send down the rain upon the thirsty earth, and give the friendly sunshine? Is it not that these may all help the fruits of the earth to yield food for man? Even so the Lord feeds and refreshes our souls that we may afterwards use our renewed strength in the promotion of his glory.

Evening, October 4, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“If anyone sins, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” –  1 John 2:1

“If anyone sins, we have an advocate.” Yes, though we sin, we have him still. John does not say, “If any man sin he has forfeited his advocate,” but “we have an advocate,” sinners though we are. All the sin that a believer ever did, or can be allowed to commit, cannot destroy his involvement in the Lord Jesus Christ, as his advocate. The name here given to our Lord is suggestive. “Jesus.” Ah! Then he is an advocate just as we need, for Jesus is the name of one whose business and delight it is to save. “They shall call his name Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins.” His precious name implies his success. Next, it is “Jesus Christ”– Christos, the anointed. This shows his authority to plead our case. The Christ has a right to plead, for he is the Father’s own appointed advocate and elected priest. If he were of our choosing he might fail, but if God has placed help upon one that is mighty, we may safely lay our trouble where God has placed his help. He is Christ, and therefore authorized; he is Christ, and therefore qualified, for the anointing has fully fitted him for his work. He can plead so as to move the heart of God and prevail. What words of tenderness, what sentences of persuasion will the anointed use when he stands up to plead for me!

One more degree of his name remains, “Jesus Christ the righteous.”
“Righteous;” this is not only his character but his plea. It is his character, and if the Righteous One be my advocate, then my cause is good, or he would not have championed it. It is his plea, for he meets the charge of unrighteousness against me by the plea that he is righteous. He declares himself my substitute and applies his obedience to my account. My soul, you have a friend well fitted to be your advocate, he cannot fail; leave yourself entirely in his hands.

Morning, October 4, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“At evening time there will be light.” — Zechariah 14:7

Often we look forward with foreboding to the time of old age, forgetful that at the end of the day it shall be light. To many believers, old age is the choicest season in their lives. A balmier air fans the mariner’s cheek as he nears the shore of immortality, fewer waves ruffle his sea, quiet reigns, deep, still and solemn. From the altar of age the flashes of the fire of youth are gone, but the more authentic flame of earnest feeling remains. The pilgrims have reached the land Beulah, that happy country, whose days are as the days of heaven upon earth. Angels visit it, celestial gales blow over it, flowers of paradise grow in it, and the air is filled with seraphic music. Some dwell here for years, and others come to it but a few hours before their departure, but it is an Eden on earth. We may well long for the time when we shall recline in its shady groves and be satisfied with hope until the time of fruition comes. The setting sun seems larger than when aloft in the sky, and a splendor of glory tinges all the clouds which surround its going down. Pain does not break the calm of the sweet twilight of age, for strength made perfect in weakness bears up with patience under it all. Ripe fruits of choice experience are gathered as a rare feast of life’s evening, and the soul prepares itself for rest.

The Lord’s people shall also enjoy light in the hour of death. Unbelief laments: “The shadows fall, the night is coming, existence is ending.” Ah no, cries faith, the night is far spent, the true day is at hand. Light is come, the light of immortality, the light of a Father’s countenance. Gather up your feet into the bed, see the waiting bands of spirits! Angels waft you away. Farewell, beloved one, you are gone; you wave your hand. Ah, now it is light. The pearly gates are open, the golden streets shine in the jasper light. We cover our eyes, but you behold the unseen; farewell, brother, you have light at eventide, such as we have not yet.

Evening, October 3, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted.” –  Hebrews 2:18

It is a common thought, and yet it tastes like honey to the weary heart:  Jesus was tempted as I am. You have heard that truth many times; have you grasped it? He was tempted in the very same sins into which we fall. Do not dissociate Jesus from our common manhood. It is a dark room which you are going through, but Jesus went through it before. It is an intense fight which you are waging, but Jesus has stood foot to foot with the same enemy. Let us be of good cheer, Christ has borne the load before us, and the bloodstained footsteps of the King of glory may be seen along the road which we traverse at this hour. There is something more precious yet–Jesus was tempted, but Jesus never sinned. Then, my soul, it is not necessary for you to sin, for Jesus was a man, and if one man endured these temptations and did not sin, then in his power we, the  members of his body, may also cease from sin. Some beginners in the divine life think that they cannot be tempted without sinning, but they are mistaken; there is no sin in being tempted, but there is sin in yielding to temptation. Here is comfort for the greatly tempted ones. There is still more to encourage them if they reflect that the Lord Jesus, though tempted, gloriously triumphed, and as he overcame, so surely shall his followers also, for Jesus is the representative man for his people; the Head has triumphed, and the members share in the victory. Fears are needless, for Christ is with us, armed for our defense. Our place of safety is the embrace of the Savior. Perhaps our temptation served a purpose just now, in order to drive us nearer to him. Blessed be any wind that blows us into the port of our Savior’s love! Happy are any wounds which make us seek the beloved Physician. You tempted ones, come to your tempted Savior, for he can be touched with a feeling of your weaknesses, and will aid and comfort every tried and tempted one.

Morning, October 3, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Are they not all ministering spirits, sent out to render service for the sake of those who will inherit salvation?” — Hebrews 1:14

Angels are the unseen attendants of the family of God; they bear us up in their hands, in case we should dash our foot against a stone. Loyalty to their Lord leads them to take a deep interest in the children of his love; they rejoice over the return of the prodigal to his father’s house below, and they welcome the arrival of the believer to the King’s palace above. In times past the sons of God were favored with their visible appearance, and in this day, although unseen by us, heaven is still opened, and the angels of God ascend and descend to the Son of man, that they may visit the heirs of salvation. Seraphim still fly with live coals from off the altar to touch the lips of men greatly beloved. If our eyes could be opened, we could see horses of fire and chariots of fire around the servants of the Lord; for we have come to an innumerable company of angels, who are all watchers and protectors of the royal offspring. Spenser’s line is no poetic fiction, where he sings–

“How oft do they with golden pinions cleave

The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant [attendant]

Against foul fiends to aid us militant!”

To what nobility are the chosen elevated when the brilliant companions of heaven’s courts become their willing servants! Into what communion are we raised since we have communication with spotless celestials! How well are we defended since all the twenty- thousand chariots of God are armed for our deliverance! To whom do we owe all this?

Let the Lord Jesus Christ be forever endeared to us, for through him we are made to sit in heavenly places far above principalities and powers. It is He whose camp is arrayed around them that fear him; he is the true Michael whose foot is upon the dragon. All hail, Jesus! You, Angel of Jehovah’s presence, to you this family offers its morning vows.

Evening, October 2, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“A man greatly beloved.” — Daniel 10:11 (KJV; “A man highly esteemed,” NASB)

Child of God, do you hesitate to assume this title? Aha! Has your unbelief made you forget that you are greatly beloved too? Must you not have been greatly beloved, to have been bought with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot? When God struck his only begotten Son for you, what was this but being greatly beloved? You lived in sin, and ran amok in it; must you not have been greatly beloved for God to have borne so patiently with you? You were called by grace and led to a Savior, and made a child of God and an heir of heaven. All this proves, does it not, a very great and superabundant love? Since that time, whether your path has been rough with troubles, or smooth with mercies, it has been full of proofs that you are a man greatly beloved. If the Lord has disciplined you, still he did it not in anger; if he has made you poor, still in grace you have been rich. The more unworthy you feel yourself to be, the more evidence have you that nothing but unspeakable love could have led the Lord Jesus to save such a soul as yours. The more imperfect you feel, the clearer is the display of the abounding love of God in having chosen you, and called you, and made you an heir of heaven. Now, if there be such love between God and us let us live in the influence and happiness of it, and use the privilege of our position. Do not let us approach our Lord as though we were strangers, or as though he were unwilling to hear us–for we are greatly beloved by our loving Father. “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?” Come boldly, O believer, for despite the whispering of Satan and the doubting of your own heart, you are greatly beloved. Meditate on the exceeding greatness and faithfulness of divine love this evening, and so go to your bed in peace.

Morning, October 2, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The hope which is laid up for you in heaven.” — Colossians 1:5

Our hope in Christ for the future is the mainspring and the mainstay of our joy here. It will enliven our hearts to think often of heaven, for all that we can desire is promised there. Here we are weary and worn down, but ahead is the land of rest where the sweat of labor shall no more sprinkle the worker’s brow, and fatigue shall be forever banished. To those who are weary and spent, the word “rest” is full of heaven. We are always in the field of battle; we are so tempted within, and so battered by foes without, that we have little or no peace; but in heaven we shall enjoy the victory, when the banner shall be waved aloft in triumph, and the sword shall be sheathed, and we shall hear our Captain say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” We have suffered bereavement after bereavement, but we are going to the land of the immortal where graves are unknown things. Here sin is a constant grief to us, but there we shall be perfectly holy, for by no means there shall enter into that kingdom anything which defiles. No hemlock springs  up in the furrows of celestial fields. Oh! Is it not joy, that you are not to be in banishment forever, that you are not to dwell eternally in this wilderness, but shall soon inherit Canaan? Nevertheless let it never be said of us, that we are dreaming about the future and forgetting the present; let the future sanctify the present to its highest uses. Through the Spirit of God the hope of heaven is the most potent force for the outcome of virtue; it is a fountain of joyous effort, it is the corner stone of cheerful holiness. The man who has this hope in him goes about his work with vigor, for the joy of the Lord is his strength. He fights against temptation with ardor, for the hope of the next world repels the fiery darts of the adversary. He can labor without a current reward, for he looks for a reward in the world to come.

Evening, October 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The Lord gives grace and glory.” — Psalm 84:11

Jehovah is generous in his nature; to give is his delight. His gifts are precious beyond measure, and are as freely given as the light of the sun. He gives grace to whom he elects because he wills it, to his redeemed because of his covenant, to those he called because of his promise, to believers because they seek it, to sinners because they need it. He gives grace abundantly, opportunely, constantly, readily, sovereignly; doubly enhancing the value of the benefit by the manner of its delivery. Grace in all its forms he freely renders to his people; comforting, preserving, sanctifying, directing, instructing, and assisting grace, he generously pours into their souls without ceasing, and he always will do so, whatever may occur. Sickness may befall, but the Lord will give grace; poverty may happen to us, but grace will surely be afforded; death must come but grace will light a candle at the darkest hour. Reader, how blessed it is as years roll round, and the leaves begin again to fall, to enjoy such an unfading promise as this, “The Lord will give grace.”

The little conjunction “and” in this verse is a diamond rivet binding the present with the future: grace and glory — our eternal glorification — always go together. God has married them, and none can divorce them. The Lord will never deny a soul glory to whom he has freely granted to live upon his grace; indeed, glory is nothing more than grace in its Sabbath dress, grace in full bloom, grace like autumn fruit, mellow and perfected. How soon we may have glory none can tell! It may be that before this month of October has run out we shall see the Holy City; but whether the interval will be longer or shorter, we shall be glorified before long. Glory, the glory of heaven, the glory of eternity, the glory of Jesus, the glory of the Father, the Lord will surely give to his chosen. Oh, incomparable promise of a faithful God!

Two golden links of one celestial chain:

Who owneth grace shall surely glory gain.

Morning, October 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Choice fruits, both new and old, which I have saved up for you, my beloved..” — Song of Solomon 7:13

The bride desires to give to Jesus all that she produces. Our heart has “all kinds of choice fruits,” both “old and new,” and they are laid up for our Beloved. In autumn, this rich season of fruit, let us survey our supplies. We have new fruits. We desire to feel new life, new joy, new gratitude; we wish to make new resolves and carry them out by new labors; our heart blossoms with new prayers, and our soul is pledging herself to new efforts. But we have some old fruits too. There is our first love (a choice fruit that!) and Jesus delights in it. There is our first faith: that simple faith by which, having nothing, we became possessors of all things. There is our joy when first we knew the Lord: let us revive it. We have our old memories of the promises. How faithful has God been! In sickness, how softly did he make our bed! In deep waters, how placidly did he buoy us up! In the flaming furnace, how graciously did he deliver us. Old fruits, indeed! We have many of them, for his mercies have numbered more than the hairs of our head. Old sins we must regret, but then we have had times of repentance which he has given us, by which we have wept our way to the cross, and learned the merit of his blood. We have fruits, this morning, both new and old; but here is the point–they are all laid up for Jesus. Truly, the best and most acceptable services are those in which Jesus is the solitary aim of the soul, and his glory, without any mixture whatever, the end of all our efforts. Let our many fruits be laid up only for our Beloved; let us display them when he is with us, and not hold them up before the gaze of men. Jesus, we will turn the key in our garden door, and none shall enter to rob you of one good fruit from the soil which you have watered with your bloody sweat. Our all shall be yours, yours only, O Jesus, our Beloved!

Evening, September 30, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“A live dog is better than a dead lion.” — Ecclesiastes 9:4

Life is a precious thing, and in its humblest form it is superior to death. This truth is eminently certain in spiritual things. It is better to be the least in the kingdom of heaven than the greatest out of it. The lowest degree of grace is superior to the noblest development of unregenerate nature. Where the Holy Spirit implants divine life in the soul, there is a precious deposit which none of the refinements of education can equal. The thief on the cross excels Caesar on his throne; Lazarus among the dogs is better than Cicero among the senators; and the most unlettered Christian is in the sight of God superior to Plato. Life is the badge of nobility in the realm of spiritual things, and men without it are only coarser or finer specimens of the same lifeless material, needing to be quickened, to be made alive, for they are dead in trespasses and sins.

A living, loving, gospel message, however unlearned in matter and uncouth in style, is better than the finest discourse devoid of anointing and power. A living dog keeps better watch than a dead lion, and is of more service to his master; and so the poorest spiritual preacher is infinitely to be preferred to the exquisite orator who has no wisdom but that of words, no energy but that of sound. The same holds good of our prayers and other religious exercises; if we are quickened in them by the Holy Spirit they are acceptable to God through Jesus Christ, though we may think them to be worthless things, while our grand performances in which our hearts were absent, like dead lions, are mere carrion in the sight of the living God. O for living groans, living sighs, living depressions, rather than lifeless songs and dead calms. Better anything than death. The snarling of the dog of hell will at least keep us awake, but dead faith and dead profession, what greater curses can a man have? Quicken us, enliven us, O Lord!

Morning, September 30, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Sing the glory of His name; make His praise glorious.” — Psalm 66:2

It is not left to our own option whether we shall praise God or not. Praise is God’s most righteous entitlement, and every Christian, as the recipient of his grace, is certain to praise God from day to day. It is true we have no authoritative rule book for daily praise; we have no commandment prescribing certain hours of song and thanksgiving: but the law written upon the heart teaches us that it is right to praise God; and the unwritten mandate comes to us with as much force as if it had been recorded on the tables of stone, or handed to us from the top of thundering Sinai. Yes, it is the Christian’s duty to praise God. It is not only a pleasurable exercise, but it is the absolute obligation of his life. You who are always mourning, do not think that ye are innocent in this respect, or imagine that you can discharge your duty to your God without songs of praise. You are bound by the bonds of his love to bless his name so long as you live, and his praise should continually be in your mouth, for you are blessed, in order that you may bless him; “this people have I formed for myself, they shall show forth my praise;” and if you do not praise God, you are not bringing forth the fruit which he, as the Divine Cultivator, has a right to expect at your hands. Do not let your harp then hang upon the willows, but take it down, and strive, with a grateful heart, to bring forth its loudest music. Arise and chant his praise. With every morning’s dawn, lift up your notes of thanksgiving, and let every setting sun be followed with your song. Encircle the earth with your praises; surround it with an atmosphere of melody, and God himself will listen from heaven and accept your music.

“E’en so I love thee, and will love,

And in thy praise will sing,

Because thou art my loving God,

And my redeeming King.”

Evening, September 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I found him whom my soul loves; I held on to him and would not let him go.” — Song of Solomon 3:4

Does Christ receive us when we come to him, despite all our past sinfulness? Does he choose not to scold us for having tried all other refuges first? And is there none on earth like him? Is he the best of all the good, the fairest of all the fair? Oh, then let us praise him! Daughters of Jerusalem, exalt him with timbrel and harp! Down with your idols, up with the Lord Jesus. Now let the standards of ceremony and pride be trampled underfoot, but let the cross of Jesus, which the world frowns and scoffs at, be lifted on high. O for a throne of ivory for our King Solomon! Let him be set on high forever, and let my soul sit at his footstool, and kiss his feet, and wash them with my tears. Oh, how precious is Christ! How can it be that I have thought so little of him? How is it I can go anywhere else for joy or comfort when he is so full, so rich, so satisfying. Fellow believer, make a covenant with your heart that you will never depart from him, and ask your Lord to ratify it. Invite him to set you as a signet upon his finger, and as a bracelet upon his arm. Ask him to bind you about him, as the bride decks herself with embellishments, and as the bridegroom puts on his finery. I desire to live in Christ’s heart; in the clefts of that rock my soul would eternally abide. The sparrow has made a house, and the swallow a nest for herself where she may lay her young, even your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God; and so too would I make my nest, my home, in you, and never from you may my tender soul, the soul of your turtledove, go forth again, but may I nestle close to you, O Jesus, my true and only rest.

“When my precious Lord I find,

All my ardent passions glow;

Him with cords of love I bind,

Hold and will not let him go.”

Morning, September 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

 “Behold, if the leprosy has covered all his body, he shall pronounce clean him who has the infection.” — Leviticus 13:13

As strange this regulation appears, there was still wisdom in it, for the overcoming of the disease proved that the constitution was sound. This morning it may be well for us to see the symbolic teaching of so unusual a rule. We, too, are lepers, and may read the law of the leper as applicable to ourselves. When a man sees himself to be altogether lost and ruined, covered all over with the defilement of sin, and no part free from contamination; when he disclaims all righteousness of his own, and pleads guilty before the Lord — then is he clean through the blood of Jesus, and the grace of God. Hidden, unfelt, unconfessed iniquity is the true leprosy; but when sin is seen, felt, and confessed, it is then it has received its death blow, and the Lord looks with eyes of mercy upon the soul afflicted with it. Nothing is deadlier than self-righteousness, or more hopeful than contrition. We must confess that we are “nothing else but sin,” for no confession short of this will be the whole truth. And if the Holy Spirit is at work with us, convincing us of sin, there will be no difficulty about making such an acknowledgment–it will spring spontaneously from our lips. The text affords much comfort to those under a deep sense of sin! Sin mourned and confessed, however black and foul, shall never shut a man out from the Lord Jesus. Whoever comes unto him, he will certainly not cast out. Though dishonest as the thief, though impure as the woman named a sinner, though fierce as Saul of Tarsus, though cruel as Manasseh, though rebellious as the prodigal, the great heart of love will look upon the man who feels himself to have no soundness in him, and will pronounce him clean, when he trusts in Jesus crucified. Come to him, then, poor heavy-laden sinner:

Come needy, come guilty,

Come loathsome and bare;

You can’t come too filthy,

Come just as you are.

Evening, September 28, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Go again seven times.” — 1 Kings 18:43

Success is certain when the Lord has promised it. Although you may have pleaded month after month without any evidence of an answer, it is impossible that the Lord should be deaf when his people are seeking in earnest in a matter which concerns his glory. The prophet on the top of Carmel continued to wrestle with God, and never for a moment gave way to a fear that he should be not accepted in Jehovah’s courts. Six times the servant returned, but on each occasion no word was spoken but, “Go again.” We must not think of losing belief, but hold to our faith even to seventy times seven. Faith sends expectant hope to look from Carmel’s peak, and if nothing is beheld, she sends again and again. So far from being crushed by repeated disappointment, faith is animated to plead more fervently with her God. She is humbled, but not abashed: her groans are deeper, and her sighs more vehement, but she never relaxes her hold or stays her hand. It would be more agreeable to flesh and blood to have a speedy answer, but believing souls have learned to be submissive, and to find it good to wait for, as well as upon, the Lord. Delayed answers often set the heart to searching itself, and so lead to contrition and spiritual reformation: deadly blows are thus struck at our corruption, and the chambers of our imagination are cleansed. The great danger is that men should grow weary, and miss the blessing. Reader, do not fall into that sin, but continue in prayer and watching. At last the little cloud was seen, the sure forerunner of torrents of rain, and even so with you, the token for good shall surely be given, and you shall rise as a prevailing prince to enjoy the mercy you have sought. Elijah was a man of like passions with us: his power with God did not lie in his own merits. If his believing prayer availed so much, why not yours? Plead the precious blood with unceasing importunity, and it shall be with you according to your desire.

Morning, September 28, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The Lord looks from heaven; He sees all the sons of men.” — Psalm 33:13

Perhaps no figure of speech represents God in a more gracious light than when he is spoken of as stooping from his throne, and coming down from heaven to attend to the wants and to behold the woes of mankind. We love him, who would not destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah even when they were full of iniquity, until he had made a personal visitation of them. We cannot help pouring out our heart in affection for our Lord who inclines his ear from the highest glory, and puts it to the lip of the dying sinner, whose failing heart longs after reconciliation. How can we not love him when we know that he numbers the very hairs of our heads, marks our path, and orders our ways? Especially is this great truth brought near to our heart, when we recollect how attentive he is, not merely to the earthly interests of his creatures, but to their spiritual concerns. Though leagues of distance lie between the finite creature and the infinite Creator, yet there are links uniting both. When you shed a tear don’t think that God does not see; for, “Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him.” Your sigh is able to move the heart of Jehovah; your whisper can incline his ear to you; your prayer can stay his hand; your faith can move his arm. Do not think that God sits on high taking no account of you. Remember that however poor and needy you are, still the Lord thinks upon you. For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His.

Oh! then repeat the truth that never tires;

No God is like the God my soul desires;

He at whose voice heaven trembles, even he,

Great as he is, knows how to stoop to me.

Evening, September 27, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“My beloved extended his hand through the opening, And my feelings were aroused for him.” — Song of Solomon 5:4

Knocking was not enough, for my heart was too full of sleep, too cold and ungrateful to arise and open the door, but the touch of his effective grace has made my soul stir itself up. Oh, the longsuffering of my Beloved, to remain when he found himself shut out, and me asleep upon the bed of sluggishness! Oh, the greatness of his patience, to knock and knock again, and to add his voice to his knocking, imploring me to open to him! How could I have refused him! Vile heart, blush and be confounded! But what the greatest kindness of all is this, that he becomes his own porter and unbars the door himself. Thrice blessed is the hand which condescends to lift the latch and turn the key. Now I see that nothing but my Lord’s own power can save such a wayward mass of wickedness as I am; rules fail, even the gospel has no effect upon me, till his hand is stretched out. Now, also, I perceive that his hand is good where all else is unsuccessful; he can open when nothing else will. Blessed be his name; I feel his gracious presence even now. Well may my feelings move for him, when I think of all that he has suffered for me, and of my stingy return. I have allowed my affections to wander. I have set up rivals. I have grieved him. Sweetest and dearest of all beloveds, I have treated you as an unfaithful wife treats her husband. Oh, my heartless sins, my heartless self. What can I do? Tears are a poor show of my repentance; my whole heart boils with indignation at myself. Rogue that I am, to treat my Lord, my All in All, my exceedingly great joy, as though he were a stranger. Jesus, you forgive freely, but this is not enough; prevent my unfaithfulness in the future. Kiss away these tears, and then purge my heart and bind it with sevenfold cords to yourself, never to wander more.

Morning, September 27, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Blessed are you, O Israel; who is like you, a people saved by the Lord!” — Deuteronomy 33:29

He who insists that Christianity makes men miserable is himself an utter stranger to it. It would be strange indeed, if it made us wretched; see to what a position it exalts us! It makes us sons of God! Do you suppose that God will give all the happiness to his enemies, and reserve all the grief for his own family? Shall his enemies have laughter and joy, and shall his homeborn children inherit sorrow and misery? Shall the unbeliever, who has no part in Christ, call himself rich in happiness, and shall we go mourning as if we were penniless beggars? No, we will rejoice in the Lord always, and glory in our inheritance, for we “have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but we have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.” The rod of discipline must rest upon us to a measure, but it works in us the comfortable fruits of righteousness; and therefore by the aid of the divine Comforter, we, the “people saved of the Lord,” will rejoice in the God of our salvation. We are married to Christ; and shall our great Bridegroom permit his spouse to linger in constant grief? Our hearts are knit to him; we are his members, and though for a while we may suffer as our Head once suffered, yet we are even now blessed with heavenly blessings in him. We have the earnest of our inheritance in the comforts of the Spirit, which are neither few nor small. Inheritors of joy forever, we have foretastes of our portion. There are beams of the light of joy to herald our eternal sun rising. Our riches are beyond the sea; our city with secure foundations lies on the other side the river; gleams of glory from the spirit world cheer our hearts, and urge us onward. Truly, isn’t it said of us, “Blessed are you, O Israel; who is like you, a people saved by the Lord?”

Evening, September 26, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Wail, O cypress, for the cedar has fallen.” — Zechariah 11:2

When the crash of a falling oak is heard in the forest, it is a sign that the woodman is around, and every tree in the whole grove may tremble for fear that tomorrow the sharp edge of the axe should find it. We are all like trees marked for the axe, and the fall of one should remind us that for everyone, whether great as the cedar, or humble as the fir, the appointed hour is stealing on rapidly. I trust we do not, when often hearing of death, become callous to it. May we never be like the birds in the steeple, which build their nests when the bells are tolling, and sleep quietly when the solemn funeral peals are disturbing the air. May we regard death as the weightiest of all events, and be sobered by its approach. It ill serves us to amuse ourselves while our eternal destiny hangs on a thread. The sword is out of its scabbard–let us not flirt with it; it is polished, and the edge is sharp–let us not play with it. He who doesn’t prepare for death is more than an ordinary fool; he is a madman. When the voice of God is heard among the trees of the garden, let fig tree and sycamore, and elm and cedar, all together hear its sound.

Be ready, servant of Christ, for your Master comes suddenly, when an ungodly world least expects him. See to it that you are faithful in his work, for the grave shall soon be dug for you. Be ready, parents, see that your children are brought up in the fear of God, for they must soon be orphans; be ready, businessmen, take care that your affairs are correct, and that you serve God with all your hearts, for the days of your service on earth will soon be ended, and you will be called to give account for the deeds you’ve done, whether they are good, or whether they are evil. May we all prepare for the tribunal of the great King with a care which shall be rewarded with the gracious commendation, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Morning, September 26, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The myrtle trees which were in the ravine.” —  Zechariah 1:8

The vision in this chapter describes the condition of Israel in Zechariah’s day; but being interpreted in its application towards us, it describes the Church of God as we find it now in the world. The Church is compared to a myrtle grove flourishing in a valley. It is hidden, unobserved, unknown; courting no honor and attracting no observation from the careless onlooker. The Church, like her head, has a glory, but it is concealed from worldly eyes, for the time for her to break forth in all her splendor is not yet come. The idea of tranquil security is also suggested to us: for the myrtle grove in the valley is still and calm, while the storm sweeps over the mountain summits. Thunderstorms spend their force upon the craggy peaks of the Alps, but down and distant where the stream flows which makes glad the city of our God, the myrtles flourish by the still waters, all unshaken by the turbulent wind. How great is the inward tranquility of God’s Church! Even when opposed and persecuted, she has a peace which the world doesn’t give, and which, therefore, it cannot take away: the peace of God which passes all understanding keeps the hearts and minds of God’s people. Does not the metaphor powerfully picture the peaceful, perpetual growth of the saints? The myrtle doesn’t shed her leaves, she is always green; and the Church in her worst time still has a blessed lushness of grace about her; indeed, she has sometimes exhibited the most greenery when her winter has been sharpest. She has prospered most when her adversities have been most harsh. Hence the text hints at victory. The myrtle is the emblem of peace, and a significant token of triumph. The brows of conquerors were bound with myrtle and with laurel; and is not the Church ever victorious? Is not every Christian more than a conqueror through him that loved him? Living in peace, don’t the saints eventually fall asleep in the arms of victory?

Evening, September 25, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God.” — 1 Corinthians 1:30

Man’s intellect seeks after rest, and by nature seeks it apart from the Lord Jesus Christ. Men of education, even when converted, are apt to look upon the simplicity of the cross of Christ without much of a reverent and loving eye. They are snared in the old net in which the Greeks were taken, and have a yearning to mix philosophy with revelation. A man of refined thought and high education is often tempted to depart from the simple truth of Christ crucified, and to invent a more “intellectual” doctrine. This led the early Christian churches into Gnosticism, and entranced them with all sorts of heresies. This is the root of rationalism, and the other “fine” things which were years ago so fashionable in Germany, and are now so are ensnaring to certain classes of ministers. Whoever you are, good reader, and whatever your education may be, be assured you will find no rest in philosophizing divinity — if you are the Lord’s. You may receive this doctrine of one “great thinker,” or that dream of another “profound reasoner,” but these are to the pure word of God what the chaff is to the wheat. Even when best guided, all that reason can find out is just the ABC’s of truth — and even that lacks certainty — while in Christ Jesus there is treasured up all the fullness of wisdom and knowledge. All attempts on the part of Christians to be content with those systems that Unitarian and other liberal church thinkers would approve of must fail; true heirs of heaven must come back to the grandly simple reality which makes the day laborer’s eye flash with joy, and gladdens the devout pauper’s heart:  “Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.” Jesus satisfies the most elevated intellect when he is believed and received, but apart from him the mind of the reborn discovers no rest. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” “A good understanding have all those that do his commandments.”

Morning, September 25, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.” — Romans 3:26

Being justified by faith, we have peace with God. Our conscience accuses no longer. Any judgment now decides for the sinner instead of against him. Our memory looks back upon past sins, with deep sorrow for the sin, but yet with no dread of any penalty to come; for Christ has paid the debt of his people to the last letter and stroke of the pen, and received the divine receipt; and unless God can be so unjust as to demand double payment for one debt, no soul for whom Jesus died as a substitute can ever be cast into hell. It seems to be one of the very principles of our enlightened nature to believe that God is just; we feel that it must be so, and this gives us alarm at first; but is it not marvelous that this very same belief that God is just, becomes afterwards the pillar of our confidence and peace?! If God is just, I — a sinner — alone and without a substitute, must be punished; but Jesus stands in my stead and is punished for me; and now, if God is just, I — a sinner — standing in Christ, can never be punished. God must change his nature before one soul, for whom Jesus was a substitute, can ever, by any possibility, suffer the lash of the law. Therefore, Jesus having taken the place of the believer — having rendered a full equivalent to divine wrath for all that his people ought to have suffered as the result of sin – allows the believer to shout with glorious triumph, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?” Not God, for he has justified; not Christ, for he has died, “Yes, rather has risen again.” My hope lives — not because I am not a sinner — but because I am a sinner for whom Christ died; my trust is not that I am holy, but that being unholy, he is my righteousness. My faith rests not upon what I am, or shall be, or feel, or know, but in what Christ is, in what he has done, and in what he is now doing for me. On the lion of justice, the fair maiden of hope rides like a queen.

Evening, September 24, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I was asleep but my heart was awake.” — Song of Solomon 5:2

Paradoxes abound in Christian experience, and here is one–the spouse was asleep, and yet she was awake. The only one who can understand this riddle is one who has labored in the same realm of experience. The two points in this evening’s text are a mournful sleepiness, and a hopeful wakefulness. I sleep. Through sin that  dwells in us we may become  negligent in holy  responsibilities, slothful in religious  training, dull in spiritual joys, and generally,  carelessly flat on our back. This is a shameful state for one in whom the  life-giving Spirit dwells; and it is dangerous to the highest degree. Even wise virgins sometimes slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the bands of slothfulness. It rightly should be feared that many believers may lose their strength as Samson lost his locks, while sleeping on the lap of worldly security. With a perishing world around us, to sleep is heartless; with eternity so near at hand, it is madness. Yet none of us are as much awake as we should be; a few thunderclaps would do us all good, and it may be, unless we soon stir up ourselves, we shall have them in the form of war, or pestilence, or personal bereavements and losses. O, that we may leave forever the couch of human ease, and go forth with flaming torches to meet the coming Bridegroom! My heart wakes. This is a happy sign. Life is not extinguished, though sadly, smothered. When our renewed heart struggles against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to sovereign grace for keeping a little vitality within the body of this death. Jesus will hear our hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts; for the voice of the wakeful heart is really the voice of our Beloved, saying, “Open to me.” Holy zeal will surely unbar the door.

“Oh lovely attitude! He stands

With melting heart and laden hands;

My soul forsakes her every sin;

And lets the heavenly stranger in.”

With edits struck out but remaining (every so often I may do this that readers may critique my editing): 

Paradoxes abound in Christian experience, and here is one–the spouse was asleep, and yet she was awake.  He only can read the believer’s riddle who has ploughed with the heifer of his experience The only one who can understand this riddle is one who has labored in the same realm of experience. The two points in this evening’s text are:  A mournful sleepiness and a hopeful wakefulness. I sleep. Through sin that dwelleth dwells in us we may become lax negligent in holy duties responsibilities, slothful in religious exercises training, dull in spiritual joys, and altogether generally, supine and careless carelessly flat on their back. This is a shameful state for one in whom the quickening life-giving Spirit dwells; and it is dangerous to the highest degree. Even wise virgins sometimes slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the bands of sloth slothfulness. It is to be rightly should be feared that many believers may lose their strength as Samson lost his locks, while sleeping on the lap of carnal worldly security. With a perishing world around us, to sleep is cruel heartless; with eternity so near at hand, it is madness. Yet we are none of us so none of us are as much awake as we should be; a few thunderclaps would do us all good, and it may be, unless we soon bestir stir up ourselves, we shall have them in the form of war, or pestilence, or personal bereavements and losses. O, that we may leave forever the couch of fleshly human ease, and go forth with flaming torches to meet the coming Bridegroom! My heart waketh wakes. This is a happy sign. Life is not extinct extinguished, though sadly, smothered. When our renewed heart struggles against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to sovereign grace for keeping a little vitality within the body of this death. Jesus will hear our hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts; for the voice of the wakeful heart is really the voice of our Beloved, saying, “Open to me.” Holy zeal will surely unbar the door.

“Oh lovely attitude! He stands

With melting heart and laden hands;

My soul forsakes her every sin;

And lets the heavenly stranger in.”

Morning, September 24, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For I was ashamed to request from the king troops and horsemen to protect us from the enemy on the way, because we had said to the king, ‘The hand of our God is favorably disposed to all those who seek Him, but His power and His anger are against all those who forsake Him.’” — Ezra 8:22

A convoy for many reasons would have been desirable for the pilgrim band, but a holy embarrassment would not allow Ezra to seek one. He feared that the heathen king should think his professions of faith in God to be mere hypocrisy, or imagine that the God of Israel was not able to preserve his own worshippers. He could not bring his mind to lean on human help in a matter so evidently of the Lord, and therefore the caravan set out with no visible protection, guarded by him who is the sword and shield of his people. It is of great concern that few believers feel this holy protectiveness for God’s reputation; even those who in a measure walk by faith, occasionally mar the luster of their life by desiring aid from man. It is a very blessed thing to have no props and no protections, except but to stand upright on the Rock of Ages, upheld by the Lord alone. Would any believers seek state funding for their Church, if they remembered that the Lord is dishonored by their asking Caesar’s aid, as if the Lord could not supply the needs of his own cause! Should we run so hastily to friends and relations for assistance, if we remembered that the Lord is magnified by our understood reliance upon his solitary arm? My soul, wait only upon God. “But,” says one, “are not such means to be used?” Assuredly they are; but our fault seldom lies in their neglect: far more frequently it springs out of foolishly believing in them instead of believing in God. Few go too far in rejecting the world’s help and system; but very many sin greatly in making too much of it. Learn, dear reader, to glorify the Lord by leaving means unutilized, if by using them you would dishonor the name of the Lord.

Evening, September 23, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Jesus said to him, ‘If you can … believe.’” — Mark 9:23

A certain man had a demoniac son, who was afflicted with a deaf and mute spirit. The father, having seen the futility of the efforts of the disciples to heal his child, had little or no faith in Christ, and therefore, when he was bidden to bring his son to him, he said to Jesus, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us, and help us.”

Now there was an “if” in the question, but the poor apprehensive father had put the “if” in the wrong place: Jesus Christ, therefore, without commanding him to retract the “if,” kindly puts it in its legitimate position. “No, truly,” he seemed to say, “there should be no ‘if’ about my power, nor concerning my willingness, the ‘if’ lies somewhere else.” “If You can? All things are possible to him who believes.” The man’s trust was strengthened, he offered a humble prayer for an increase of faith, and instantly Jesus spoke the word, and the devil was cast out, with an injunction never to return. There is a lesson here which we need to learn. We, like this man, often see that there is an “if” somewhere, but we are continually blundering by putting it in the wrong place. “If” Jesus can help me–“if” he can give me grace to overcome temptation–“if” he can give me forgiveness–“if” he can make me successful? No, “if” you can believe, he both can and will. You have misplaced your “if.” If you can confidently trust, even as all things are possible to Christ, so shall all things be possible to you. Faith stands in God’s power, and is robed in God’s majesty; it wears the royal apparel, and rides on the King’s horse, for it is the grace which the King delights to honor. Clothing itself with the glorious might of the all-working Spirit, it becomes, in the omnipotence of God, mighty to do, to dare, and to endure. All things, without limit, are possible to him that believes. My soul, can you believe your Lord tonight?

Morning, September 23, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Accepted in the beloved.” —  Ephesians 1:6 (KJV)

What a state of privilege! It includes our justification before God, but the term “acceptance” in the Greek means more than that. It signifies that we are the objects of divine pleasure, and even of divine delight. How marvelous that we — worms, mortals, sinners — should be the objects of divine love! But it is only “in the beloved.” Some Christians seem to be accepted in their own experience, at least, that is their understanding. When their spirit is energetic, and their hopes bright, they think God accepts them, for they feel so high, so heavenly-minded, so drawn above the earth! But when their souls cleave to the dust, they are the victims of the fear that they are no longer accepted. How much happier they would be if they could only see that all their high levels of joy do not exalt them, and all their low depressions do not really decrease them in their Father’s sight, but that they stand accepted in One who never alters, in One who is always the beloved of God, always perfect, always without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing — how much more then they would honor the Savior! Rejoice then, believer, in this: you are accepted “in the beloved.” You look within, and you say, “There is nothing acceptable here!” But look at Christ, and see if there everything is acceptable in him. Your sins trouble you; but God has cast your sins behind his back, and you are accepted in the Righteous One. You have to fight with corruption, and to wrestle with temptation, but you are already accepted in him who has overcome the powers of evil. The devil tempts you; be of good cheer, he cannot destroy you, for you are accepted in him who has broken Satan’s head. Be fully assured of your glorious standing. Even glorified souls are not more accepted than you are. They are only accepted in heaven “in the beloved,” and you are even now accepted in Christ after the same manner.

Evening, September 22, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I call to You when my heart is faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I” — Psalm 61:2

Most of us know what it is to be faint in heart, overwhelmed; emptied as when a man wipes a dish and turns it upside down; blown over and submerged like a vessel mastered by the storm. Discoveries of inward immorality will do this, if the Lord permits the great depths of our decadence to become troubled and cast up mire and dirt. Disappointments and heartbreak will do this when breaker after breaker rolls over us, and we are like a broken shell hurled to and from by the surf. Blessed be God that at such seasons we have an all-sufficient support; our God is the harbor of weather-beaten sails, the hospice of forlorn pilgrims. He is higher than we are, his mercy higher than our sins, his love higher than our thoughts. It is pitiful to see men putting their trust in something lower than themselves; but our confidence is fixed upon an exceeding high and glorious Lord. Since he never changes he is a Rock, and a high Rock, because the cyclones which overwhelm us roll far beneath at his feet; he is not disturbed by them, but rules them at his will. If we get under the shelter of this lofty Rock we may defy the hurricane; all is calm under the cover of that towering cliff. Alas! The troubled mind is often cast in such confusion that we need piloting to this divine shelter. Hence the prayer of the text. O Lord, our God, by your Holy Spirit, teach us the way of faith, lead us into your rest. The wind blows us out to sea, the helm won’t answer to our feeble hand; you, you alone can steer us over the bar, between the sunken rocks ahead, and safe into the fair haven. How dependent we are upon you–we need you to bring us to you. To be wisely directed and steered into safety and peace is your gift, and yours alone. This night, be pleased to deal well with your servants.

Morning, September 22, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Let Israel be glad in his Maker.” — Psalm 149:2

Be glad of heart, O believer, but take care that your gladness has its source in the Lord. You have much cause for gladness in your God, for you can sing with David, “God, my exceeding joy.” Be glad that the Lord reigns, that Jehovah is King! Rejoice that he sits upon the throne, and rules all things! Every attribute of God should become a fresh ray in the sunlight of our gladness. That he is wise should make us glad, knowing as we do our own foolishness. That he is mighty, should cause us to rejoice who tremble at our weakness. That he is everlasting, should always be a theme of joy when we know that we wither as the grass. That he is unchanging, should perpetually yield us a song, since we change every hour. That he is full of grace, that he is overflowing with it, and that he has given this grace to us in covenant; that it is ours to cleanse us, ours to keep us, ours to sanctify us, ours to perfect us, ours to bring us to glory–all this should tend to make us glad in him. This gladness in God is as a deep river; we have only yet touched its brink; we know a little of its clear sweet, heavenly streams, but onward the depth is greater, and the current more spontaneous in its joy. The Christian feels that he may delight himself not only in what God is, but also in all that God has done in the past. The Psalms show us that God’s people in times past were used to thinking greatly of God’s actions, and to have a song concerning each of them. So, let God’s people now rehearse the deeds of the Lord! Let them tell of his mighty acts, and “sing unto the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously.” Let them never cease to sing, for as new mercies flow to them day by day, so should their gladness in the Lord’s loving acts in foreknowing provision and in grace show itself in continued thanksgiving. Be glad, children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God.

Evening, September 21, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Do not take my soul away along with sinners.” — Psalm 26:9

Fear made David pray this way, for something whispered, “Perhaps, after all, you may be taken with the wicked.” That fear, although marred by unbelief, springs mainly from godly concerns arising from the recollection of past sin. Even the pardoned man will enquire, “What if at the end my sins should be remembered, and I should be left out of the list of the saved?” He recollects his present unfruitfulness — so little grace, so little love, so little holiness — and looking forward to the future, he considers his weakness and the many temptations which afflict him, and he fears that he may fall, and become a prey to the enemy. A sense of sin and present evil, and his prevailing vices, compel him to pray, in fear and trembling, “Gather not my soul with sinners.” Reader, if you have prayed this prayer, and if your character be rightly described in the Psalm from which it is taken, you need not be afraid that you shall be gathered with sinners. Have you the two virtues which David had–the outward walking in integrity, and the inward trusting in the Lord? Are you resting upon Christ’s sacrifice, and can you embrace the altar of God with humble hope? If so, rest assured, you never shall be gathered with the wicked, for that tragedy is impossible. The gathering at the judgment is like kind to like kind. “First gather up the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them up; but gather the wheat into my barn.” If, then, you are like God’s people, you shall be with God’s people. You cannot be gathered with the wicked, for you are too dearly bought. Redeemed by the blood of Christ, you are his forever, and where he is, there must his people be. You are loved too much to be cast away with the sinners. Shall one who is dear to Christ perish? Impossible! Hell cannot hold you! Heaven claims you! Trust in your Guarantor and fear not!

Morning, September 21, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I will rejoice over them to do them good.” — Jeremiah 32:41

How encouraging to the believer, is the delight which God has in his saints! We cannot see any reason in ourselves why the Lord should take pleasure in us; we cannot take delight in ourselves, for we often must groan, being burdened — conscious of our sinfulness, and deploring our unfaithfulness — and we fear that God’s people cannot take much delight in us, for they must perceive so many of our imperfections and our foolishness, so that they may rather grieve over our shortcomings than admire our virtues. But we love to dwell upon this transcendent truth, this glorious mystery: that as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so does the Lord rejoice over us. We do not read anywhere that God delights in the cloud-capped mountains, or the sparkling stars, but we do read that he delights in the inhabited parts of the earth, and that his delights are with the sons of men. We do not even find it written that angels give his soul delight; and he doesn’t say, concerning cherubim and seraphim, “You shalt be called Hephzibah, for the Lord delights in you;” but he does say all that to poor fallen creatures like ourselves, debased and depraved by sin, but saved, exalted, and glorified by his grace. Note in what strong language he expresses his delight in his people! Who could have conceived of the eternal One as bursting forth into a song? Yet it is written, “He will rejoice over you with joy, he will rest in his love, he will joy over you with singing.” As he looked upon the world he had made, he said, “It is very good;” but when he beheld those who are purchased of Jesus’ blood, his own chosen ones, it seemed as if the great heart of the Infinite could restrain itself no longer, but overflowed in divine exclamations of joy. Should not we utter our grateful response to such a marvelous declaration of his love, and sing, “I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation?”

Evening, September 20, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Sow your seed in the morning and do not be idle in the evening.” — Ecclesiastes 11:6

In the evening of the day opportunities are plentiful; men return from their labor, and the enthusiastic soul-winner finds time to tell everywhere the love of Jesus. Don’t I have work to do for Jesus in the evening? If I’m not working, let me start, let me no longer withhold my hand from a service which requires abundant labor. Sinners are perishing for lack of knowledge; he who dawdles may find his clothing stained crimson with the blood of souls. Jesus gave both his hands to the nails; how can I keep back one of mine from his blessed work? Night and day he toiled and prayed for me;  how can I give a single hour to the pampering of myself with comfortable ease? Up, idle heart; stretch out your hand to work, or to lift up prayer; heaven and hell are a serious matter; let me be so serious, and this evening sow good seed for the Lord my God.

The evening of life has also its calls. Life is so short that a morning of a person’s vigor, and an evening of his decay, make the whole of it. To some it seems long, but a few dollers is a great sum of money to a poor man. Life is so brief that no man can afford to lose a day. It has been well said that if a great king should bring us a great heap of gold, and call us to take as much as we could count in a day, we should make a long day of it; we should begin early in the morning, and in the evening we should not stop; but to win souls is far nobler work, how is it that we so soon withdraw from it? Some are spared to a long evening, a long life, of green old age; if such is my case, let me use such talents as I still retain, and to the last hour serve my blessed and faithful Lord. By his grace I will die with my hand to the plow, and lay down my calling only when I lay down my body. One of old age may instruct the young, cheer the feeble, and encourage the despondent; if the evening of life has less of vigorous heat, it should have more of calm wisdom; therefore in the evening I will not withhold my hand from work.

Morning, September 20, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon.” — Judges 7:20

Gideon ordered his men to do two things: Covering up a torch in an earthen pitcher, he ordered them, at an appointed signal, to break the pitcher and let the light shine, and then sound with the trumpet, crying, “The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon! the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” This is precisely what all Christians must do. First, you must shine; break the pitcher which conceals your light; throw aside the bushel which has been hiding your candle, and shine. Let your light shine before men; let your good works be such that, when men look upon you, they shall know that you have been with Jesus. Then there must be the sound, the blowing of the trumpet. There must be active efforts for gathering in sinners by proclaiming Christ crucified. Take the gospel to them; carry it to their door; put it in their way; do not suffer them to escape it; blow the trumpet right against their ears. Remember that the true war cry of the Church is Gideon’s watchword, “The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” God must do it; it is his own work. But we are not to be idle; an agency is to be used: “The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” If we only cry “The sword of the Lord!” we shall be guilty of lazy presumption; and if we shout “The sword of Gideon!” alone, we shall be showing idolatrous reliance on our human effort: we must blend the two in practical harmony, “The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” We can do nothing of ourselves, but we can do everything by the help of our God; let us, therefore, in his name determine to go out personally and serve with our flaming torch of the example of a holy life, and with our trumpet tones of earnest declaration and testimony, and God shall be with us, and Midian shall be put to confusion, and the Lord of hosts shall reign forever and ever.

Evening, September 19, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For this boy I prayed.” — 1 Samuel 1:27

Devout believers revel in looking upon those mercies which they have obtained in answer to their earnest prayers, for they can see God’s special love in them. When we can name our blessings “Samuel,” which means, “asked of God,” they will be as dear to us as her child was to Hannah. Elkanah’s other wife, Peninnah, had many children, but they came as common blessings unsought in prayer: Hannah’s one heaven sent child was far dearer, because he was the fruit of earnest pleas. How delightful was that water to Samson which he found at “the well of him that prayed!” Cups made from the Quassia bark turn all water bitter, but the cup of prayer puts a sweet taste into the mouthfuls it brings. Did we pray for the conversion of our children? How doubly precious, when they are saved, to see our own petitions fulfilled in them! Better to rejoice over them as the fruit of our pleas and prayers than as the fruit of our bodies. Have we sought from Lord some choice spiritual gift? When it comes to us it will be wrapped up in the gold cloth of God’s faithfulness and truth, and so be doubly prized. Have we appealed for success in the Lord’s work? How joyful is the prosperity which comes flying upon the wings of prayer! It is always best to get blessings into our house in the legitimate way, by the door of prayer; then they are blessings indeed, and not temptations. Even when prayer doesn’t quickly deliver, the blessings grow all the richer for the delay; the child Jesus was all the more lovely in the eyes of Mary when she found him after having sought him troubled. That which we win by prayer we should dedicate to God, as Hannah dedicated Samuel. The gift came from heaven, let it go to heaven. Prayer brought it, gratitude sang over it, let devotion consecrate it. Here will be a special occasion for saying, “Of your own have I given to you.” Reader, is prayer your natural element or is it weariness? Which?

Morning, September 19, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“It was for freedom that Christ set us free.” — Galatians 5:1

This “freedom” makes us free to heaven’s charter–the Bible. Here is a choice passage, believer: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” You are free to enjoy that. Here is another: “For the mountains may be removed and the hills may shake, But My lovingkindness will not be removed from you”; you are free to enjoy that. You are a welcome guest at the table of his promises. Scripture is a never-failing treasury filled with boundless stores of grace. It is the bank of heaven; you may draw from it as much as you please, without delay or hindrance. Come in faith and you are welcome to all the covenant blessings. There is not a promise in the Word which shall be withheld. In the depths of tribulations let this freedom comfort you; amidst waves of distress let it cheer you; when sorrows surround you let it be your comfort. This is your Father’s token of love; you are free to it at all times. You are also free to come to the throne of grace. It is the believer’s privilege to have access at all times to his heavenly Father. Whatever our desires, our difficulties, our wants, we are at liberty to lay all out before him. It doesn’t matters how much we may have sinned, we may ask and expect pardon. It means nothing how poor we are, we may declare his promise that he will provide all things we need. We have permission to approach his throne at all times–in midnight’s darkest hour, or in midday’s most burning heat. Exercise your right, O believer, and live up to your privilege. You are free to all that is treasured up in Christ–wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. It doesn’t matter what your need is, for there is a complete supply in Christ, and it is there for you. O what a “freedom” is yours! Freedom from condemnation, freedom to the promises, freedom to the throne of grace, and at last freedom to enter heaven!

Evening, September 18, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And they follow me.” — John 10:27

We should follow our Lord as unhesitatingly as sheep follow their shepherd, for he has a right to lead us wherever he pleases. We are not our own, we are bought with a price–let us recognize the rights of the blood that redeemed us. The soldier follows his captain, the servant obeys his master:  How much more must we follow our Redeemer, to whom we are an invaluable, purchased possession. We are not true to our profession of being Christians, if we question the bidding of our Leader and Commander. Submission is our duty, objecting is our folly. Often our Lord might say to us as to Peter, “What is that to you? You follow me.” Wherever Jesus may lead us, he goes before us. Even if we don’t know where we go, we know with whom we go. With such a companion, who will dread the perils of the road? The journey may be long, but his everlasting arms will carry us to the end. The presence of Jesus is the assurance of eternal salvation, because he lives, we shall live also. We should follow Christ in simplicity and faith, because the paths in which he leads us all end in glory and immortality. It is true they may not be smooth paths–they may be covered with sharp stony trials–but they lead to the “city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” “All the paths of the LORD are loving kindness and truth to those who keep His covenant and His testimonies.” Let us put full trust in our Leader, since we know that, come prosperity or adversity, sickness or health, popularity or contempt, his purpose shall be worked out, and that purpose shall be pure, undiluted good to every heir of mercy. We shall find it sweet to go up the bleak side of the hill with Christ; and when rain and snow blow into our faces, his dear love will make us far happier than those who sit at home and warm their hands at the world’s fire. To the top of Mt. Amana, to the dens of lions, or to the hills of leopards, we will follow our Beloved. Precious Jesus, draw us, and we will run after you.