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

“So, let us go out to Him outside the camp, bearing His reproach.”— Hebrews 13:13

Jesus, bearing his cross, went forth to suffer outside the gate. The Christian’s reason for leaving the camp of the world’s sin and religion is not because he loves to be unconventional, but because Jesus did so; and the disciple must follow his Master. Christ was “not of the world:” his life and his testimony were a constant protest against conformity with the world. There was never such overflowing affection for men as you find in him; but still he was distinct from sinners. In like manner Christ’s people must “go out to him.” They must take their position “outside the camp,” bearing witness for the truth. They must be prepared to tread the straight and narrow path. They must have bold, unflinching, lion-like hearts, loving Christ first, and his truth next, and Christ and his truth beyond all the world. Jesus would have his people “go out to Him outside the camp” for their own sanctification. You cannot grow in grace to any high degree while you are conformed to the world. The life of separation may be a path of sorrow, but it is the highway of safety; and though the separated life may cost you much pain, and make every day a battle, it is yet a happy life, after all. No joy can excel that given to the soldier of Christ: Jesus reveals himself so graciously, and gives such sweet refreshment, that the warrior feels more calm and peace in his daily strife than others in their hours of rest. The highway of holiness is the highway of communion. It is in this way we shall hope to win the crown if we are enabled by divine grace faithfully to follow Christ “outside the camp.” The crown of glory will follow the cross of separation. A moment’s shame will be well recompensed by eternal honor; a little while of bearing witness will seem nothing when we are “forever with the Lord.”

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

“Before honor comes humility.” — Proverbs 15:33

Humiliation of soul always brings a positive blessing with it. If we empty our hearts of self, God will fill them with his love. He who desires close communion with Christ should remember the word of the Lord, “But to this one I will look, to him who is humble and contrite of spirit, and who trembles at My word.” Stoop low if you would climb to heaven. Do we not say of Jesus, “He descended that he might ascend?” So must you. You must grow downwards, that you may grow upwards; for the sweetest fellowship with heaven is to be had by humble souls, and by them alone. God will deny no blessing to a thoroughly humbled spirit. “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” with all its riches and treasures. The whole treasury of God shall be granted over by a deed of gift to the soul which is humble enough to be able to receive it without growing proud because of it. God blesses us all up to the full measure and extent of what it is safe for him to do. If you do not get a blessing, it is because it is not safe for you to have one. If our heavenly Father were to let your proud spirit win a victory in his holy war, you would pilfer the crown for yourself, and meeting with a fresh enemy you would fall a victim; for that reason you are kept low for your own safety. When a man is sincerely humble, and never ventures to touch so much as a grain of the praise, there is scarcely any limit to what God will do for him. Humility makes us ready to be blessed by the God of all grace, and fits us to deal proficiently with our fellow men. True humility is a flower which will adorn any garden. This is a sauce with which you may season every dish of life, and you will find an improvement in every case. Whether it be in prayer or praise, whether it be in work or suffering, the genuine salt of humility cannot be used in excess.

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

“When they led Him away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene, coming in from the country, and placed on him the cross to carry behind Jesus.” — Luke 23:26

We see a picture of the work of the Church throughout all generations in Simon’s carrying the cross; she is the cross-bearer after Jesus. Mark then, Christian, Jesus does not suffer in order to exclude your suffering. He bears a cross, not that you may escape it, but that you may endure it. Christ exempts you from sin, but not from sorrow. Remember that and expect to suffer.

But let us comfort ourselves with this thought, that in our case, as in Simon’s, it is not our cross, but Christ’s cross which we carry. When you are mistreated for your piety; when your religion brings the trial of cruel mocking upon you, then remember it is not your cross, it is Christ’s cross; and how delightful is it to carry the cross of our Lord Jesus!
You carry the cross after him. You have blessed company; your path is marked with the footprints of your Lord. The mark of his blood red shoulder is upon that heavy burden. It is his cross, and he goes before you as a shepherd goes before his sheep. Take up your cross daily, and follow him.

Do not forget, also, that you bear this cross in partnership. It is the opinion of some that Simon only carried one end of the cross, and not the whole of it. That is very possible; Christ may have carried the heavier part, against the transverse beam, and Simon may have borne the lighter end. Certainly, it is so with you; you only carry the light end of the cross; Christ bore the heavier end.

And remember, though Simon had to bear the cross for a very little while, it gave him lasting honor. Even so the cross we carry is only for a little while at most, and then we shall receive the crown, the glory. Surely, we should love the cross, and, instead of shrinking from it, count it very dear, when it works out for us “an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison.”

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

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord.” — Isaiah 2:3

It is exceedingly beneficial to our souls to ascend above this present evil world to something nobler and better. The cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches are likely to choke everything good within us, and we grow fretful, despondent… perhaps proud and worldly. It is well for us to cut down these thorns and briers, for heavenly seed sown among them is not likely to yield a harvest; and where shall we find a better scythe with which to cut them down than communion with God and the things of the kingdom? In the valleys of Switzerland, many of the inhabitants are shrunken, and all have a sickly appearance, for the atmosphere is charged with fog, and is oppressing and stagnant; but up higher, on the mountain, you find a hardy race, who breathe the clear fresh air as it blows from the virgin snows of the Alpine summits. It would be well if the dwellers in the valley could frequently leave their homes among the marshes and the fever-causing mists, and inhale the bracing element upon the hills. It is to such an adventure of climbing that I invite you this evening. May the Spirit of God assist us to leave the mists of fear and the fever of anxiety, and all the evils which gather in this valley of earth, and to ascend the mountains of anticipated joy and blessedness. May God the Holy Spirit cut the cords that keep us here below and assist us to ascend! We sit too often like chained eagles fastened to the rock, except that, unlike the eagle, we begin to love our chains, and would, perhaps—if it came really to the test—be reluctant to have them snapped. May God now grant us grace, even if we cannot escape from the chain that binds our flesh, yet to do so as to our spirits; and leaving the body, like a servant, at the foot of the hill, may our soul, like Abraham, attain the top of the mountain, there to indulge in communion with the Most High.

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

“He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” — 2 Corinthians 5:21

Sorrowful Christian! Why do you weep? Art you mourning over your own corruption? Look to your perfect Lord, and remember, you are complete in him; in God’s sight you are as perfect as if you had never sinned; indeed, more than that, the Lord our Righteousness has put a divine garment upon you, so that you have more than the righteousness of man—you have the righteousness of God. O you who are mourning by reason of inbred sin and depravity, remember, none of your sins can condemn you. You have learned to hate sin; but you have learned also to know that sin is no longer yours—it was laid upon Christ’s head. Your standing is not in yourself—it is in Christ; your acceptance is not in yourself, but in your Lord; you are as much accepted by God today, with all your sinfulness, as you will be when you stand before his throne, free from all corruption. O, I implore you, lay hold on this precious thought: perfection in Christ! For you are “complete in him.” With your Savior’s garment on, you are holy as the Holy one. “Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.” Christian, let your heart rejoice, for you are “accepted in the beloved”—what have you to fear? Let your face forever wear a smile; live near your Master; live in the suburbs of the Celestial City; for soon, when your time has come, you shalt rise up where your Jesus sits, and reign at his right hand; and all this because the divine Lord “was made to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.”

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

“All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.” — Isaiah 53:6

Here a confession of sin common to all the elect people of God. They have all fallen, and therefore, in common chorus, they all say, from the first who entered heaven to the last who shall enter there, “All we like sheep have gone astray.” The confession, while therefore unanimous, is also special and specific: “We have turned every one to his own way.” There is a peculiar sinfulness about every one of the individuals; all are sinful, but each one with some special bane of his life not found in his fellow. It is the mark of genuine repentance that while it naturally associates itself with other penitents, it also takes up a position of loneliness. “We have turned every one to his own way,” is a confession that each man had sinned against light special to himself, or sinned with an encumbrance which he could not perceive in others. This confession is without reservation; there is not a word to detract from its force, nor a syllable by way of excuse. The confession is a giving up of all claims of self-righteousness. It is the declaration of men who are consciously guilty–guilty with aggravation, guilty without excuse: they stand with their weapons of rebellion broken in pieces, and cry, “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.” Yet we hear no mournful wailing attending this confession of sin; for the next sentence makes it almost a song. “The Lord has has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.” It is the most grievous sentence of the three, but it overflows with comfort. It is strange that where misery was concentrated mercy reigned; where sorrow reached her climax weary souls find rest. The Savior bruised is the healing of bruised hearts. See how the lowliest penitence gives place to assured confidence through simply gazing at Christ on the cross!

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

“So he then handed Him over to them to be crucified.” — John 19:16

He had been in agony all night, he had spent the early morning at the hall of Caiaphas, he had been hurried from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate to Herod, and from Herod back again to Pilate; he had, therefore, but little strength left, and yet neither refreshment nor rest were permitted him. They were eager for his blood, and therefore led him out to die, loaded with the cross. O sorrowful procession! Greatly may Salem’s daughters weep. My soul, do you weep also?

What do we here learn as we see our blessed Lord led forth? Do we not perceive that truth which was set forth in the Old Testament foreshadowed by the scapegoat? Did not the high priest bring the scapegoat, and put both his hands upon its head, confessing the sins of the people, that therefore those sins might be laid upon the goat, and cease from the people? Then the goat was led away by an appointed man into the wilderness, and it carried away the sins of the people, so that if they were sought for they could not be found. Now we see Jesus brought before the priests and rulers, who pronounce him guilty; God himself imputes our sins to him; “the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all;” “He was made sin on our behalf;” and, as the substitute for our guilt, bearing our sin upon his shoulders, represented by the cross; we see the great Scapegoat led away by the appointed officers of justice. Beloved, can you feel assured that he carried your sin? As you look at the cross upon his shoulders, does it represent your sin? There is one way by which you can tell whether he carried your sin or not. Have you laid your hand upon his head, confessed your sin, and trusted in him? Then your sin does not lie on you; it has all been transferred by blessed imputation to Christ, and he bears it on his shoulder as a load heavier than the cross.

Do not let the picture vanish till you have rejoiced in your own deliverance and adored the loving Redeemer upon whom your iniquities were laid.

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

“He will see His offspring, he will prolong His days, and the good pleasure of the Lord will prosper in His hand.” — Isaiah 53:10

Appeal for the speedy fulfilment of this promise, all you who love the Lord. It is easy work to pray when, as to our desires, we are grounded and settled upon God’s own promise. How can he that gave the word refuse to keep it? Immutable truth cannot demean itself by a lie, and eternal faithfulness cannot degrade itself by neglect. God must bless his Son, his covenant binds him to it. That which the Spirit prompts us to ask for Jesus, is that which God decrees to give him. Whenever you are praying for the kingdom of Christ, let your eyes behold the dawning of the blessed day which draws near, when the Crucified shall receive his coronation in the place where men rejected him. Take courage, you that prayerfully work and toil for Christ with success of the very smallest kind; it shall not be so always; better times are before you. Your eyes cannot see the delightful future: borrow the telescope of faith, wipe the misty breath of your doubts from the glass and look through it to behold the coming glory. Reader, let us ask, do you make this your constant prayer? Remember that the same Christ who tells us to say, “Give us this day our daily bread,” had first given us this petition, “Hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Do not let your prayers all be concerning your own sins, your own wants, your own imperfections, your own trials; but let them climb the starry ladder, and get up to Christ himself, and then, as you draw near to the blood-sprinkled mercy-seat, offer this prayer continually, “Lord, extend the kingdom of your dear Son.” Such a petition, fervently presented, will elevate the spirit of all your devotions. Take mind that you prove the sincerity of your prayer by laboring to promote the Lord’s glory.

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

“And He did not answer him with regard to even a single charge.” — Matthew 27:14

He had never been slow to speak when he could bless the sons of men, but he would not say a single word for himself. “Never has a man spoken the way this man speaks,” and never was a silent like him. Was this remarkable silence the index of his perfect self-sacrifice? Did it show that he would not utter a word to stay the slaughter of his sacred person, which he had dedicated as an offering for us? Had he so entirely surrendered himself that he would not interfere in his own behalf, even in the minutest degree, but be bound and slain an unresisting, uncomplaining victim? Was this silence a symbol of the defenselessness of sin? Nothing can be said to whitewash or excuse human guilt; and, therefore, he who bore its whole weight stood speechless before his judge. Is not patient silence the best reply to a dissenting, hostile world? Calm endurance answers some questions infinitely more conclusively than the loftiest eloquence. The best apologists for Christianity in the early days were its martyrs. The anvil breaks a host of hammers by quietly bearing their blows. Did not the silent Lamb of God furnish us with a grand example of wisdom? Where every word was an occasion for new charges of blasphemy, it was the line of duty to afford no fuel for the flame of sin. The ambiguous and the false, the unworthy and ignoble, will before long overthrow and disprove themselves, and therefore the true can afford to be quiet, and finds silence to be its wisdom. Evidently our Lord, by his silence, furnished a remarkable fulfilment of prophecy. A long defense of himself would have been contrary to Isaiah’s prediction: “Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.” By his quiet he conclusively proved himself to be the true Lamb of God. As such we salute him this morning. Be with us, Jesus, and in the silence of our heart, let us hear the voice of your love.

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

“It is time to seek the Lord.” — Hosea 10:12

This month of April is said to derive its name from the Latin verb “aperio,” which means to open, because all the buds and blossoms are now opening, and we have arrived at the flowery gates of the year. Reader, if you are yet unsaved, may your heart, in accord with the universal awakening of nature, be opened to receive the Lord. Every blossoming flower warns you that it is time to seek the Lord; do not be out of tune with nature, but let your heart bud and bloom with a desire for holiness. Do you tell me that the warm blood of youth leaps in your veins? Then, I implore you, give your vigor to the Lord. It was my indescribable happiness to be called in early youth, and I could gladly praise the Lord every day for it. Salvation is priceless; let it come when it may, but oh, an early salvation has a double value in it! Young men and women, since you may perish before you reach your prime, “It is time to seek the Lord.” You who feel the first signs of decay, quicken your pace: that hollow cough, that reoccurring fever, are warnings which you must not trifle with; with you it is indeed time to seek the Lord. Did I observe a little grey mingled with your once luxurious tresses? Years are stealing on quickly, and death is drawing nearer by hasty increments; let each return of spring arouse you to set your house in order. Dear reader, if you are now advanced in life, let me entreat and implore you to delay no longer. There is a day of grace for you now—be thankful for that, but it is a limited season and grows shorter every time that the clock ticks. Here in this silent room, on this first night of another month, I speak to you as best I can by paper and ink, and from my innermost soul, as God’s servant, I lay before you this warning, “It is time to seek the Lord.” Do not belittle that work; it may be your last call from destruction, the final syllable from the lip of grace.

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

“May he kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!” — Song of Solomon 1:2

For several days we have been dwelling upon the Savior’s passion, and for some time to come we shall linger there. In beginning a new month, let us seek the same desires after our Lord as those which glowed in the heart of Solomon’s spouse. See how she leaps at once to him; there are no introductory words; she does not even mention his name; she is in the heart of her theme at once, for she speaks of him who was the only him in the world to her. How bold is her love! It was Jesus’ grace which permitted the weeping penitent to anoint his feet with perfumed oil; it was rich love which allowed the gentle Mary to sit at his feet and learn of him; but here, love— strong, fervent love—aspires to higher tokens of affection, and closer signs of fellowship. Esther trembled in the presence of Ahasuerus, but the spouse in joyful liberty of perfect love knows no fear. If we have received the same free spirit, we also may ask the same. We suppose kisses intend those varied manifestations of affection by which the believer is made to enjoy the love of Jesus. The kiss of reconciliation we enjoyed at our conversion, and it was sweet as honey dropping from the honeycomb. The kiss of acceptance is still warm on our brow, as we know that he has accepted our person and our work through rich grace. The kiss of daily, present communion is that which we long after to be repeated day after day, till it is changed into the kiss of reception, which removes the soul from earth, and the kiss of consummation which fills it with the joy of heaven. Faith is our walk, but fellowship sensibly felt is our rest. Faith is the road, but communion with Jesus is the well from which the sojourner drinks. O lover of our souls, do not be a stranger to us; let the lips of your blessing meet the lips of our asking; let the lips of your fulness touch the lips of our need, and immediately the kiss will be executed.

Evening, March 31, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth and spread it for herself on the rock, from the beginning of harvest until it rained on them from the sky; and she allowed neither the birds of the sky to rest on them by day nor the beasts of the field by night.” — 2 Samuel 21:10
If the love of a woman to her slain sons could make her prolong her mournful vigil for so long a period, shall we grow weary of considering the sufferings of our blessed Lord? She drove away the birds of prey; shall not we chase from our meditations those worldly and sinful thoughts which defile both our minds and the sacred themes upon which we are occupied? Away, you birds of evil wing! Leave the sacrifice alone! She bore the heats of summer, the night dew and the rains, unsheltered and alone. Sleep was chased from her weeping eyes: her heart was too full for slumber. Behold how she loved her children! Shall Rizpah therefore endure, and shall we flinch at the first little inconvenience or trial? Are we such cowards that we cannot bear to suffer with our Lord? She even chased away the wild beasts, with courage befitting a warrior; will we not be ready to encounter every foe for Jesus’ sake? These — her children — were slain by other hands than hers, and yet she wept and watched: what should we do who have, by our sins, crucified our Lord? Our obligation is boundless, our love should be fervent and our repentance thorough. To watch with Jesus should be our business, to protect his honor our occupation, to abide by his cross our comfort. Those ghastly corpses might well have terrified Rizpah, especially at night; but in our Lord, at the foot of whose cross we are sitting, there is nothing revolting, but everything is attractive. Never was living beauty so enchanting as a dying Savior. Jesus, we will watch with you yet awhile, and you will graciously unveil yourself to us; then we shall not sit beneath sackcloth, but in a royal pavilion.

Morning, March 31, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And by His scourging we are healed.” — Isaiah 53:5

Pilate delivered our Lord to the Roman torturers to be scourged. The Roman scourge was a most dreadful instrument of torture. It was made of the ligaments of oxen, and sharp bones were intertwined all along among the ligaments; so that every time the lash came down these pieces of bone inflicted fearful lacerations, and tore off the flesh from the bone. The Savior was, no doubt, bound to the column, and thus beaten. He had been beaten before; but this of the Roman executors was probably the most severe of his floggings. My soul, stand here and weep over his poor stricken body.
Believer in Jesus, can you gaze upon him without tears, as he stands before you the mirror of agonizing love? He is at once fair as the lily in innocence, and red as the rose with the crimson of his own blood. As we feel the sure and blessed healing which his lashes have accomplished in us, does not our heart melt at once with love and grief? If ever we have loved our Lord Jesus, surely we must feel that affection glowing now within our hearts.

“See how the patient Jesus stands,
Insulted in his lowest case!
Sinners have bound the Almighty’s hands,
And spit in their Creator’s face.
With thorns his temples gor’d and gash’d
Send streams of blood from every part;
His back’s with knotted scourges lash’d.
But sharper scourges tear his heart.”

We would willingly go to our bedrooms and weep; but since our business calls us away, we will first pray that our Beloved will print the image of his bleeding self upon the tablets of our hearts all day, and at nightfall we will return to commune with him, and mourn that our sin should have cost him so dearly.

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

“Let us examine and probe our ways, and let us return to the Lord.” — Lamentations 3:40

The spouse who fondly loves her absent husband longs for his return; a long, protracted separation from him is like death to her spirit: and so it is with souls who love the Savior much; they must see his face, they cannot bear that he should be away upon the mountains of Lebanon, and has communion with them no more. A reproaching glance, an uplifted finger will be grave to loving children, who fear to offend their tender father, and are only happy when he smiles. Beloved, it was once so with you. A text of Scripture, a threatening, a touch of the rod of affliction, and you went to your Father’s feet, crying, “Show me where you contend with me?” Is this true now? Are you content to follow Jesus from afar off? Can you consider suspended communion with Christ without alarm? Can you bear to have your Beloved walking contrary to you, because you walk contrary to him? Have your sins separated you and your God, and is your heart at rest? O let me affectionately warn you, for it is a grievous thing when we can live contentedly without the present enjoyment of the Savior’s face. Let us strive to feel what an evil thing this is–little love to our own dying Savior, little joy in our precious Jesus, little fellowship with the Beloved! Hold a true Lent in your souls, while you grieve over your hardness of heart. Do not stop at sorrow! Remember where you first received salvation. Go at once to the cross. There, and there only, can you get your spirit quickened. No matter how hard, how oblivious, how dead we may have become, let us go again in all our rags and poverty, and the defilement of our natural condition. Let us clasp that cross, let us look into those relaxed eyes, let us bathe in that fountain filled with blood—this will bring back to us our first love; this will restore the simplicity of our faith, and the tenderness of our heart.

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

“He was numbered with the transgressors.” — Isaiah 53:12

Why did Jesus tolerate himself to be classified among sinners? This wonderful descent to that level was justified by many powerful reasons. In such a character he could better become their advocate. In some trials there is an identification of the counsellor with the client, and they are looked upon in the eye of the law as inseparable from one another. Now, when the sinner is brought to the bar, Jesus appears there himself. He stands to answer the accusation. He points to his side, his hands, his feet, and challenges Justice to bring anything against the sinners whom he represents; he pleads his blood, and pleads so triumphantly, being numbered with them and having a part with them, that the Judge proclaims, “Let them go their way; deliver them from going down into the pit, for he has found a ransom.” Our Lord Jesus was numbered with the transgressors in order that they might feel their hearts drawn towards him. Who can be afraid of one who is written in the same list with us? Surely, we may come boldly to him, and confess our guilt. He who is numbered with us cannot condemn us. Was he not put down in the transgressor’s list that we might be written in the roll of the saints? He was holy, and written among the holy; we were guilty, and numbered among the guilty; he transfers his name from the holy list to this black indictment, and our names are taken from the indictment and written in the roll of acceptance, for there is a complete transfer made between Jesus and his people. All our condition of misery and sin Jesus has taken; and all that Jesus has comes to us. His righteousness, his blood, and everything that he has, he gives us as our marriage gift. Rejoice, believer, in your union to him who was numbered among the transgressors; and prove that you are truly saved by being strikingly numbered with those who are new creatures in him.

Evening, March 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening
“I called him but he did not answer me.” — Song of Solomon 5:6
Prayer sometimes tarries, like a petitioner at the gate, until the King comes forth to fill her heart with the blessings which she seeks. The Lord, when he has given great faith, has been known to test it by long delays. He has allowed his servants’ voices to echo in their ears as from a brass sky. They have knocked at the golden gate, but it has remained immovable, as though it had rusted upon its hinges. Like Jeremiah, they have cried, “You have covered Yourself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through.” Consequently true saints have continued long in patient waiting without reply, not because their prayers were not passionate, nor because they were unaccepted, but because it accordingly pleased him who is Sovereign, and who gives according to his own pleasure. If it pleases him to call for our patience to exercise itself, shall he not do as he wills with his own? Beggars must not be choosers either as to time, place, or form. But we must be careful not to take delays in prayer as denials: God’s long-dated bills will be punctually honored; we must not allow Satan to shake our confidence in the God of truth by pointing to our unanswered prayers. Unanswered petitions are not unheard. God keeps a file for our prayers—they are not blown away by the wind, they are treasured in the King’s archives. This is a registry in the court of heaven wherein every prayer is recorded. Tried believer, your Lord has a tear-bottle in which the costly drops of your sacred grief are put away, and a book in which your holy cries to heaven are numbered. By and by, your suit shall prevail. Can you not be content to wait a little? Will not your Lord’s time be better than your time? By and by he will comfortably appear, to your soul’s joy, and make you put away the sackcloth and ashes of long waiting, and put on the scarlet and fine linen of full fruition.

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

“Although He was a Son, He learned obedience from the things which He suffered.” — Hebrews 5:8

We are told that the Captain of our salvation was made perfect through suffering; therefore, we who are sinful, and who are far from being perfect, must not wonder if we are called to pass through suffering too. Shall the head be crowned with thorns, and shall the other members of the body be rocked upon the elegant lap of ease? Must Christ pass through seas of his own blood to win the crown, and are we to walk to heaven with dry feet in silver slippers? No, our Master’s experience teaches us that suffering is necessary, and the true-born child of God must not, would not, escape it if he could. But there is one very comforting thought in the fact of Christ’s “being made perfect through suffering”—it is, that he can have complete sympathy with us. “For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.” In this sympathy of Christ we find a sustaining power. One of the early martyrs said, “I can bear it all, for Jesus suffered, and he suffers in me now; he sympathizes with me, and this makes me strong.” Believer, lay hold of this thought in all times of agony. Let the thought of Jesus strengthen you as you follow in his steps. Find a precious support in his sympathy; and remember that, to suffer is an honorable thing—to suffer for Christ is glory. The apostles rejoiced that they were counted worthy to do this. Just so far as the Lord shall give us grace to suffer for Christ, to suffer with Christ, just so far does he honor us. The jewels of a Christian are his afflictions. The regalia of the kings whom God has anointed are their troubles, their sorrow, and their grief. Let us not, therefore, shun being honored. Let us not turn aside from being exalted. Grief exalts us, and troubles lift us up. ” If we endure, we will also reign with Him.”

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

“As a soothing aroma I will accept you.” — Ezekiel 20:41

The merits of our great Redeemer are as a soothing aroma to the Most High. Whether we speak of the active or passive righteousness of Christ, there is an equal fragrance. There was a sweet aroma in his active life by which he honored the law of God, and made every precept to glitter like a precious jewel in the pure setting of his own person. Such, too, was his passive obedience, when he endured with uncomplaining submission, hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, and at length sweating great drops of blood in Gethsemane, giving his back to the floggers, and his cheeks to those that plucked out his hair, and was fastened to the cruel wood, that he might suffer the wrath of God for our behalf. These two things are lovely before the Most High; and for the sake of his doing and his dying, his substitutionary sufferings and obedience, the Lord our God accepts us. What a great value there must be in him to overcome our lack of value! What a precious aroma to put away our adverse aroma! What a cleansing power in his blood to take away sin such as ours! And what glory in his righteousness to make such unacceptable creatures to be accepted in the Beloved! Take note, believer, how sure and unchanging our acceptance must be, since it is in him! Take care that you never doubt your acceptance in Jesus. You cannot be accepted without Christ; but, when you have received his merit, you cannot be rejected. Despite all your doubts, and fears, and sins, Jehovah’s gracious eye never looks upon you in anger; though he sees sin in you, in yourself, yet when he looks at you through Christ, he sees no sin. You are always accepted in Christ, are always blessed and dear to the Father’s heart. Therefore, lift up a song, and as you see the smoking incense of the merit of the Savior coming up, this evening, before the sapphire throne, let the incense of your praise go up also.

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

“The love of Christ which surpasses knowledge.” — Ephesians 3:19

The love of Christ in its loveliness, its fulness, its greatness, its faithfulness, passes all human comprehension. Where shall language be found which shall describe his matchless and unparalleled love towards the children of men? It is so vast and boundless that, just as the swallow just skims the water, and does not dive into its depths, so all descriptive words only touch the surface, while immeasurable depths lie beneath. Might well the poet say,

“O love, thou fathomless abyss!”;

for this love of Christ is indeed measureless and fathomless; none can attain it. Before we can have any correct idea of the love of Jesus, we must understand his previous glory in its height of majesty, and his incarnation upon the earth in all its depths of shame. But who can tell us the majesty of Christ? When he was enthroned in the highest heavens he was in every respect God —“very God of very God,” as the Nicene Creed says— and by him were the heavens made, and all the hosts thereof. His own almighty arm upheld the stars and planets; the praises of cherubim and seraphim perpetually surrounded him; the full chorus of the hallelujahs of the universe flowed unceasingly to the foot of his throne: he reigned supreme above all his creatures, God over all, blessed forever. Who can tell his height of glory then? And who, on the other hand, can tell how low he descended? To be a man was one thing, to be a man of sorrows was far more; to bleed, and die, and suffer, these were much for him who was the Son of God; but to suffer such unparalleled agony—to endure a death of shame and desertion by his Father, this is a depth of humbling love which the most inspired mind must utterly fail to fathom. Herein is love, and truly it is love that “passes knowledge!” O let this love fill our hearts with adoring gratitude and lead us to practical expressions of its power.

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

“But she said, “Yes, Lord; but even the dogs feed on the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.” — Matthew 15:27

This woman gained comfort in her misery by thinking great thoughts of Christ. The Master had talked about the children’s bread: “Now,” argued she, “since you are the Master of the table of grace, I know that you are a generous host, and there is sure to be abundance of bread on your table; there will be such an abundance for the children that there will be crumbs to throw on the floor for the dogs, and the children will fare none the worse because the dogs are fed.” She thought him one who kept so good a table that all that she needed would only be a crumb in comparison; yet remember, what she wanted was to have the devil cast out of her daughter. It was a very great thing to her, but she had such a high esteem of Christ, that she said, “It is nothing to him; it is but a crumb for Christ to give.” This is the royal road to comfort. Great thoughts of your sin alone will drive you to despair; but great thoughts of Christ will pilot you into the haven of peace. “My sins are many, but oh, it is nothing to Jesus to take them all away! The weight of my guilt presses me down as a giant’s foot would crush a worm, but it is no more than a grain of dust to him, because he has already borne its curse in his own body on the tree. It will be but a small thing for him to give me full remission, although it will be an infinite blessing for me to receive it.” The woman opens her soul’s mouth very wide, expecting great things of Jesus, and he fills it with his love. Dear reader, do the same. She confessed what Christ laid at her door, but she laid tight hold upon him, and drew arguments even out of his hard words; she believed great things of him, and she thus overcame him. She won the victory by believing in Him. Her case is an instance of prevailing faith; and if we would conquer like her, we must imitate her tactics.

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

“Then all the disciples left Him and fled.” — Matthew 26:56

He never deserted them, but they, in cowardly fear for their lives, fled from him in the very beginning of his sufferings. This is but one instructive instance of the frailty of all believers if left to themselves; they are only like sheep at the best, and they flee when the wolf comes. They had all been warned of the danger and had promised to die rather than leave their Master; and yet they were seized with sudden panic, and took to their heels. It may be that I, at the opening of this day, have braced up my mind to bear a trial for the Lord’s sake, and I imagine myself to be certain to exhibit perfect faithfulness; but let me be very suspicious of myself, for fear that having the same evil heart of unbelief, I should depart from my Lord as the apostles did. It is one thing to promise, and quite another to perform. It would have been to their eternal honor to have stood at Jesus’ side right bravely; but they fled from honor; may I be kept from imitating them! Where else could they have been so safe as near their Master, who could at any time call for twelve legions of angels? They fled from their true safety. O God, let me not play the fool also. Divine grace can make the coward brave. The smoking wick can flame forth like fire on the altar when the Lord wills it. These very apostles who were timid as hares, grew to be bold as lions after the Spirit had descended upon them, and even so the Holy Spirit can make my untrustworthy spirit to bravely confess my Lord and witness for his truth.

What anguish must have filled the Savior as he saw his friends so faithless! This was one bitter ingredient in his cup of suffering; but that cup is drained dry; let me not put another drop in it. If I forsake my Lord, I shall crucify him again, and put him to open shame. Keep me, O blessed Spirit, from an end so dishonorable.

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

“When He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels.” — Mark 8:38

If we have been participants with Jesus in his shame, we shall be sharers with him in the radiance which shall surround him when he appears again in glory. Are you, beloved one, walking with Christ Jesus? Does a vital union knit you to him? Then you are with him in his shame today; you have taken up his cross and gone with him outside the camp bearing his reproach; you shall doubtless be with him when the cross is exchanged for the crown. But judge yourself this evening; for if you are not with him in his death and rebirth, neither will you be with him when he shall come in his glory. If you step back from the black side of communion, you shall not understand its bright, its happy period, when the King shall come, and all his holy angels with him. What! Are angels with him? And yet he did not take up angels—he took up the offspring of Abraham. Are the holy angels with him? Come, my soul, if you are indeed his own beloved, you cannot not be far from him. If his friends and his neighbors are called together to see his glory, what do you think if you are married to him? Shalt you be distant? Though it be a day of judgment, yet you cannot not be far from that heart which, having admitted angels into intimacy, has admitted you into union. Has he not said to you, O my soul, “I will betroth you to Me forever; yes, I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in lovingkindness and in compassion?” Have not his own lips said it, ” For I delight in you, And to Me your land will be married?” If the angels, who are but friends and neighbors, shall be with him, it is abundantly certain that his own beloved Hephzibah, in whom all his delight is, shall be near to him, and sit at his right hand. Here is a morning star of hope for you, of such surpassing brilliance, that it may well light up the darkest and most desolate experience.

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

“Jesus answered, “I told you that I am He; so if you seek Me, let these go their way.” — John 18:8

Mark, my soul, the care which Jesus demonstrated towards the sheep of his hand even in his hour of trial ! The ruling passion is strong even facing death. He resigns himself to the enemy, but he interposes a word of power to set his disciples free. As to himself, like a sheep before her shearers, he did not open his mouth, but for his disciples’ sake he speaks with almighty power. Here is love, constant, self-forgetting, faithful love. But is there not far more here than is to be found upon the surface? Have we not the very soul and spirit of the atonement in these words? The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep and pleads that they must therefore go free. The debt is guaranteed, and justice demands that those for whom he stands as a substitute should go their way. In the midst of Egypt’s bondage, that voice rings as a word of power, “Let these go their way.” Out of the slavery of sin and Satan the redeemed must come. In every cell of the dungeons of Despair, the sound is echoed, “Let these go their way,” and out come Despondency and Much-afraid. Satan hears the well-known voice, and lifts his foot from the neck of the fallen; and Death hears it, and the grave opens her gates to let the dead arise. Their way is one of progress, holiness, triumph, glory, and none shall dare to delay them in it. No lion shall be in their way; neither shall any ravenous beast go there. “The hind of the morning” has drawn the cruel hunters upon himself, and now the most timid does and hinds of the field may graze at perfect peace among the lilies of his loves. The thundercloud has burst over the Cross of Calvary, and the pilgrims of Zion shall never be struck by the bolts of vengeance. Come, my heart, rejoice in the immunity which yoiur Redeemer has secured you, and bless his name all the day, and every day.

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

“The Son of Man.” — John 3:13

How constantly our Master used the title, the “Son of Man!” If he had chosen, he might always have spoken of himself as the Son of God, the Everlasting Father, Wonderful, Counsellor, the Prince of Peace; but behold the humbleness of Jesus! He prefers to call himself the Son of Man. Let us learn a lesson of humility from our Savior; let us never court great titles nor proud degrees. There is here, however, a far more valuable thought. Jesus loved mankind so much, that he delighted to honor it; and since it is a high honor, and indeed, the greatest dignity of mankind, that Jesus is the Son of Man, he is disposed to display this name, that, as it were, he may hang royal stars upon the breast of mankind, and show forth the love of God to Abraham’s seed. Son of Man—whenever he said that word, he set a halo round the head of Adam’s children. Yet there is perhaps a more precious thought still. Jesus Christ called himself the Son of Man to express his oneness and sympathy with his people. He therefore reminds us that he is the one whom we may approach without fear. Every one of us may take to him all our griefs and troubles, for he knows them by experience; in that he himself has suffered as the “Son of Man,” he is able to aid and comfort us. All hail, blessed Jesus! Since you are forever using the sweet name which acknowledges that you are a brother and a near relative, it is to us a prized token of your grace, your humility, your love.

“Oh see how Jesus trusts himself

Unto our childish love,

As though by his free ways with us

Our earnestness to prove!

His sacred name a common word

On earth he loves to hear;

There is no majesty in him

Which love may not come near.”

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

“Are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?” — Luke 22:48

“Deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.” Let me be on my guard when the world puts on a loving face, for it will, if possible, betray me as it did my Master, with a kiss. Whenever a man is about to stab religion, he usually professes a very great reverence for it. Let me beware of the slick-faced hypocrisy which is armor-bearer to heresy and betrayal. Knowing the deceiving nature of unrighteousness, let me be wise as a serpent to detect and avoid the strategies of the enemy. The young man, void of understanding, was led astray by the kiss of the strange woman: may my soul be so graciously instructed all this day, that “the very fair speech” of the world may have no effect upon me. Holy Spirit, let me not be betrayed with a kiss, poor frail son of man that I am!

But what if I should be guilty of the same cursed sin as Judas, that son of perdition? I have been baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus; I am a member of his visible Church; I sit at the communion table: all these are so many kisses of my lips. Am I sincere in them? If not, I am a base traitor. Do I live in the world as carelessly as others do, and yet make a profession of being a follower of Jesus? Then I must expose religion to ridicule, and lead men to speak evil of the holy name by which I am called. Surely, I am a Judas if I act so inconsistently, and it would be better for me that I had never been born. Do I dare  hope that I am clear in this matter? Then, O Lord, keep me so. O Lord, make me sincere and true. Preserve me from every false way. Never let me betray my Savior. I do love you, Jesus, and though I often grieve you, stillI would desire to abide faithful even until death. O God, forbid that I should loudly affirm my faith, and then fall at last into the lake of fire, because I betrayed my Master with a kiss.

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

“At that very time He rejoiced greatly in the Holy Spirit.” — Luke 10:21

The Savior was “a man of sorrows,” but every thoughtful mind has discovered the fact that down deep in his innermost soul he carried an inexhaustible treasury of refined and heavenly joy. Of all the human race, there was never a man who had a deeper, purer, or more abiding peace than our Lord Jesus Christ. “He was anointed with the oil of gladness above his companions.” His vast compassion must, from the very nature of things, have afforded him the deepest possible delight, for compassion is joy. There were a few remarkable seasons when this joy manifested itself. “At that very time He rejoiced greatly in the Holy Spirit, and said, ‘I praise You, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth.'” Christ had his songs, though it was night for him; though his face was marred, and his countenance had lost the luster of earthly happiness, still sometimes it was lit up with a matchless splendor of unparalleled satisfaction, as he was looking to the reward, and in the midst of the congregation sang his praise to God. In this, the Lord Jesus is a blessed picture of his church on earth. At this hour the church expects to walk in sympathy with her Lord along a thorny road; through much tribulation she is forcing her way to the crown. To bear the cross is her occupation, and to be scorned and counted an alien by her mother’s children is her lot; and yet the church has a deep well of joy, of which none can drink but her own children. There are stores of wine, and oil, and corn, hidden in the midst of our Jerusalem, upon which the saints of God are evermore sustained and nurtured; and sometimes, as in our Savior’s case, we have our seasons of intense delight, for “There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy dwelling places of the Most High.” Though we are exiles, we rejoice in our King; yes, in him we rejoice greatly, while in his name we set up our standards.

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

“He was heard because of His fear (piety, NASB).” — Hebrews 5:7

Did this piety (reverent fear) arise from the hellish suggestion that he was utterly forsaken? There may be sterner trials than this, but surely it is one of the worst to be utterly forsaken. “See,” said Satan, “You have no friend anywhere! Your Father has shut up the heart of his compassion against you. Not an angel in his courts will stretch out his hand to help you. All heaven is alienated from you; you are left alone. See the companions with whom you have taken special counsel, what are they worth? Son of Mary, see there your brother James, see there your loved disciple John, and your bold apostle Peter: how the cowards sleep when you are suffering! Look! You have no friend left in heaven or earth. All hell is against you. I have stirred up my subterranean den. I have sent my messages throughout all regions summoning every prince of darkness to set upon you this night, and we will spare no arrows, we will use all our hellish might to overwhelm you: and what you do, you solitary one?”

It may be this was the temptation; we think it was, because the appearance of an angel to strengthen him removed that fear. He was heard because he reverently feared; he was no longer alone, but heaven was with him. It may be that this is the reason of his coming three times to his disciples—as the hymnist Joseph Hart put it:

“Backwards and forwards thrice he ran,

As if he sought some help from man.”

He would see for himself whether it was really true that all men had forsaken him; he found them all asleep, but perhaps he gained some faint comfort from the thought that they were sleeping, not from treachery, but from sorrow; the spirit indeed was willing, but the flesh was weak. At any rate, he was heard in that he reverently feared. Jesus was heard in his deepest anguish; my soul, you shall be heard also.

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

“’I tell you,’ he replied, ‘if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.’” — Luke 19:40

But could the stones cry out? Most assuredly they could if the one who opens the mouth of the mute should order them to lift up their voice. Certainly, if they were to speak, they would have much to testify in praise of him who created them by the word of his power; they could exalt the wisdom and power of their Maker who called them into being. Shall we not speak well of him who made us anew, and out of stones raised up children unto Abraham? The old rocks could speak of chaos and order, and the handiwork of God in successive stages of creation’s drama; and cannot we talk of God’s decrees, of God’s great work in ancient times, in all that he did for his church in the days of old? If the stones were to speak, they could tell of their quarryman, how he took them from the quarry, and made them fit for the temple; and cannot we also tell of our glorious Quarryman, who broke our hearts with the hammer of his word, that he might build us into his temple? If the stones should cry out they would magnify their builder, who polished them and fashioned them after the resemblance of a palace; and shall not we talk of our Architect and Builder, who has put us in our place in the temple of the living God? If the stones would cry out, they might have a long, long story to tell by way of memorial, for many a time a great stone has been rolled as a memorial before the Lord; and we too can testify of Ebenezers, stones of help, pillars of remembrance. The broken stones of the law cry out against us, but Christ himself, who has rolled away the stone from the door of the sepulcher, speaks for us. Stones might well cry out, but we will not let them: we will hush their noise with ours; we will break forth into sacred song, and bless the majesty of the Most High, all our days glorifying him who is called by Jacob the Shepherd and Stone of Israel.

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

“His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” — Luke 22:44

The mental pressure arising from our Lord’s struggle with temptation, so forced his body to an unnatural level of stress, that his pores sent forth great drops of blood which fell down to the ground. This proves how tremendous must have been the weight of sin when it was able to crush the Savior so that extracted great drops of blood! This demonstrates the mighty power of his love. It is a very apt observation of old Isaac Ambrose that the resin which exudes from the Camphire tree without cutting is always the best. This precious Tree yielded most sweet spices when it was wounded under the knotty whips, and when it was pierced by the nails on the cross; but note, it gives forth its best spice when there is no whip, no nail, no wound. This sets forth the willingness of Christ to suffer, since without a lance the blood flowed freely. No need to draw blood, or apply the knife; it flows spontaneously. No need for the rulers to cry, “Spring up, O well;” of itself it flows in crimson torrents. If men suffer great anguish of mind the blood leaves the extremities, to the heart. The cheeks are pale; fainting begins; the blood has gone inward as if to nourish the inner man while passing through its trial. But see our Savior in his agony; he is so utterly oblivious of self, that instead of his agony driving his blood to the heart to nourish himself, it drives it outward to drop on the earth. The agony of Christ, in so much as it pours him out upon the ground, pictures the fulness of the offering which he made for men.

Do we not perceive how intense the wrestling through which he passed must have been, and will we not hear its voice to us? “You have not yet resisted to the shedding of blood in your striving against sin.” Let us behold the great Apostle and High Priest of our profession, and sweat even to the point of blood rather than yield to the great tempter of your souls.

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

“Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am.” — John 17:24

O death! Why do you touch the tree whose spreading branches give us rest from weariness? Why do you snatch away the excellent of the earth, in whom we all delight? If you must use your axe, use it upon the trees which yield no fruit; you might be thanked then. But why will you fell the fair cedars of Lebanon? O stay your axe, and spare the righteous.

But no, it must not be; death smites the fairest of our friends; the most generous, the most prayerful, the most holy, the most devoted must die. And why? It is through Jesus’ persuading prayer—”Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am.” It is that prayer which bears them on eagle’s wings to heaven. Every time a believer mounts from this earth to paradise, it is an answer to Christ’s prayer. A good old minister remarks, “Many times Jesus and his people pull against one another in prayer. You bend your knee in prayer and say ‘Father, I want your believers to be with me where I am;’ Christ says, ‘Father, I want that they also, whom you have given me, be with me where I am.'” Therefore, the disciple is at cross-purposes with his Lord. The soul cannot be in both places: the beloved one cannot be with Christ and with you too. Now, which petitioner shall win the day? If you had your choice — if the King should step from his throne, and say, “Here are two pleading and praying in opposition to one another, which shall be answered?” Oh! I am sure, though it would be agony, you would jump to your feet, and say, “Jesus, not my will, but yours be done.” You would give up your prayer for your loved one’s life, if you could comprehend the thought that Christ is praying in the opposite direction—”Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am.” Lord, you shall have them. By faith we let them go.

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

“And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed.” — Matthew 26:39

There are several instructive features in our Savior’s prayer in his hour of trial. It was lonely prayer. He withdrew even from his three favored disciples. Believer, be much in solitary prayer, especially in times of trial. Family prayer, social prayer, prayer in the Church, will not suffice; these are very precious, but the best beaten incense will smoke in your censer in your private devotions, where no ear hears but God’s.

It was humble prayer. Luke says he knelt, but another evangelist says he “fell on his face.” Where, then, must be your place as a humble servant of the great Master? What dust and ashes should cover your head! Humility gives us a good foothold in prayer. There is no hope of prevailing with God unless we abase ourselves that he may exalt us in due time.

It was filial prayer. “Abba, Father.” You will find it a stronghold in the day of trial to appeal to your adoption. You have no rights as a subject, you have forfeited them by your disloyalty; but nothing can forfeit a child’s right to a father’s protection. Do not be afraid to say, “My Father, hear my cry.”

Observe that it was persevering prayer. He prayed three times. Do not cease until you prevail. Be as the persistent widow, whose repeated requests earned what her first appeal could not win. Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving.

Lastly, it was the prayer of resignation. “Yet not as I will, but as You will.” Yield, and God yields. Let it be as God wills, and God will determine for the best. Be content to leave your prayer in his hands, who knows when to give, and how to give, and what to give, and what to withhold. So praying — earnestly, persistently, yet with humility and resignation — you shall surely prevail.

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

“Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades, or loose the cords of Orion?” — Job 38:31

If we are inclined to boast of our abilities, the grandeur of nature may soon show us how puny we are. We cannot move the least of all the twinkling stars, or quench so much as one of the rays of the morning. We speak of power, but the heavens laugh us to scorn. When the Pleiades shine forth in spring with vernal joy we cannot restrain their influences, and when Orion reigns aloft, and the year is bound in winter’s fetters, we cannot relax the icy bands. The seasons revolve according to the divine appointment, and the whole race of men cannot effect a change there. Lord, what is man?

In the spiritual, as in the natural world, man’s power is limited on all hands. When the Holy Spirit sheds abroad his delights in the soul, none can interrupt; all the cunning and malice of men is ineffective to stay the warm enlivening power of the Comforter. When he stoops to visit the church and revive it, the most hardened enemies cannot resist the good work; they may ridicule it, but they can no more restrain it than they can push back the spring when the Pleiades rule the hour. God wills it, and so it must be. On the other hand, if the Lord in sovereignty, or in justice, binds up a man so that he is in bondage in his soul, who can give him liberty? God alone can remove the winter of spiritual death from an individual or a people. He looses the bands of Orion, and none but he. What a blessing it is that he can do it. O that he would perform that wonder tonight! Lord, end my winter, and let my spring begin! I cannot with all my longing raise my soul out of her death and dullness, but all things are possible with you. I need celestial influences, the clear radiance of your love, the rays of your grace, the light of your countenance; these are the Pleiades to me. I suffer much from sin and temptation; these are my wintry signs, my terrible Orion. Lord, work wonders in me, and for me. Amen.

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

“A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone.” — John 16:32

Few of the disciples had fellowship with the sorrows of Gethsemane. The majority of the disciples were not sufficiently advanced in grace to be admitted to behold the mysteries of “the agony.” Occupied with the Passover feast at their own houses, they represent the majority who live upon the letter, but are mere babes as to the spirit of the gospel. To twelve, no, to eleven only was the privilege given to enter Gethsemane and see “this great sight.” Out of the eleven, eight were left at a distance; they had fellowship, but not of that intimate sort to which men greatly beloved are admitted. Only three highly favored ones could approach the veil of our Lord’s mysterious sorrow: within that veil even these must not intrude; a stone’s-cast distance must be left between. He must tread the wine-press alone, and of his followers there must be none with him. Peter and the two sons of Zebedee represent the few eminent, experienced followers, who may be written down as “Fathers;” these having done business on stormy waters, can in some degree measure the huge Atlantic waves of their Redeemer’s passion. To some selected ones it is given, for the good of others, and to strengthen them for future, special, and tremendous conflict, to enter the inner circle and hear the pleadings of the suffering High Priest; they have fellowship with him in his sufferings and are made conformed to his death. Yet even these cannot penetrate the secret places of the Savior’s woe. “Thine unknown sufferings” is the remarkable expression of the Greek liturgy: there was an inner chamber in our Master’s grief, shut out from human knowledge and fellowship. There Jesus is “left alone.” Here Jesus was more than ever an “Unspeakable gift!” Is not Watts right when he sings–

“And all the unknown joys he gives,

Were bought with agonies unknown.”

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

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her.” — Ephesians 5:25

What a golden example Christ gives to his disciples! Few masters could venture to say,  “practice my teaching, imitate my life;” but as the life of Jesus is the exact transcript of perfect virtue, he can point to himself as the paragon of holiness, as well as the teacher of it. The Christian should take nothing short of Christ for his model. Under no circumstances ought we to be content unless we reflect the grace which was in him. As a husband, the Christian is to look upon the portrait of Christ Jesus, and he is to paint according to that copy. The true Christian is to be such a husband as Christ was to his church. The love of a husband is special. The Lord Jesus cherishes for the church a special affection, which is set upon her above the rest of mankind: “I ask on their behalf; I do not ask on behalf of the world.” The church is the favorite of heaven, the treasure of Christ, the crown of his head, the bracelet of his arm, the breastplate of his heart, the very center and core of his love.

A husband should love his wife with a constant love, for accordingly Jesus loves his church. He does not vary in his affection. He may change in his display of affection, but the affection itself is still the same.

A husband should love his wife with an enduring love, for nothing “will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

A true husband loves his wife with a hearty love, enthusiastic and intense. It is not mere lip-service. Ah! Beloved, what more could Christ have done in proof of his love than he has done? Jesus delights in love towards his spouse: He prizes her affection, and delights in her with sweet pleasure. Believer, you are in wonder at Jesus’ love; you admire it—are you imitating it? In your domestic relationships is the rule and measure of your love—”even as Christ loved the church?”

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

“My beloved.” — Song of Solomon 2:8

This was a golden name which the ancient Church in her most joyous moments was accustomed to give to the Anointed of the Lord. When the time of the singing of birds was come, and the voice of the turtledove was heard in her land, her love-note was sweeter than either, as she sang, “My beloved is mine, and I am his; He pastures his flock among the lilies.” Ever in her song of songs she calls him by that delightful name, “My beloved!” Even in the long winter, when idolatry had withered the garden of the Lord, her prophets found space to lay aside the burden of the Lord for a little season, and to say, as Isaiah did, “Let me sing now for my well-beloved. My well-beloved had a vineyard on a fertile hill.” Though the prophets had never seen his face, though as yet he was not made flesh, nor had dwelt among us, nor had man beheld his glory, yet he was the comfort of Israel, the hope and joy of all the chosen, the “beloved” of all those who were upright before the Most High. We, in the summer days of the Church, are also inclined to speak of Christ as the best beloved of our soul, and to feel that he is very precious, the “chief most among ten thousand, and altogether lovely.” So true is it that the Church loves Jesus, and claims him as her beloved, that the apostle dares to defy the whole universe to separate her from the love of Christ, and declares that neither persecutions, distress, affliction, peril, or the sword have been able to do it; nay, he joyously boasts, “In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.”

O that we knew more of thee, thou ever precious one!

“My sole possession is thy love;

In earth beneath, or heaven above,

I have no other store;

And though with fervent suit I pray,

And importune thee day by day,

I ask thee nothing more.”

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

“She ate and was satisfied and had some left.” — Ruth 2:14

Whenever we are privileged to eat of the bread which Jesus gives, we are, like Ruth, satisfied with the full and satisfying banquet. When Jesus is the host, no guest goes empty from the table. Our head is satisfied with the precious truth which Christ reveals; our heart is content with Jesus, as our altogether lovely object of affection; our hope is satisfied, for whom have we in heaven but Jesus? And our desire is satiated, for what can we wish for more than “to know Christ and to be found in him?” Jesus fills our conscience until it is at perfect peace; our judgment with conviction of the certainty of his teachings; our memory with recollections of what he has done, and our imagination with the prospects of what he is yet to do. As Ruth was “satisfied and had some left,” so is it with us. We have had deep mouthfuls; we have thought that we could take in all of Christ; but when we have done our best we have had to leave a vast remainder. We have sat at the table of the Lord’s love, and said, “Nothing but the infinite can ever satisfy me; I am such a great sinner that I must have infinite merit to wash my sin away;” but we have had our sin removed, and found that there was merit to spare; we have had our hunger relieved at the feast of sacred love, and found that there was a abundance of spiritual meat remaining. There are certain sweet things in the Word of God which we have not enjoyed yet, and which we are obliged to leave for a while; for we are like the disciples to whom Jesus said, “I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” Yes, there are gifts and callings to which we have not attained; places of fellowship nearer to Christ which we have not reached; and heights of communion which our feet have not climbed. At every banquet of love there are many baskets of fragments left. Let us magnify the liberality of our glorious Boaz.

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

“Strong in faith.” — Romans 4:20

Christian, take good care of your faith; for remember, faith is the only way by which you can obtain blessing. If we want blessings from God, nothing can fetch them down but faith. Prayer cannot draw down answers from God’s throne except by the earnest prayer of the man who believes. Faith is the angelic messenger between the soul and the Lord Jesus in glory. Let that angel be withdrawn, and we can neither send up prayer, nor receive the answers. Faith is the telegraphic wire which links earth and heaven—on which God’s messages of love fly so fast, that before we call he answers, and while we are yet speaking he hears us. But if that telegraphic wire of faith is snapped, how can we receive the promise? Am I in trouble?—I can obtain help for trouble by faith. Am I beaten about by the enemy?—my soul leans by faith on her dear Refuge. But take faith away—in vain I call to God. There is no road between my soul and heaven. In the deepest wintertime faith is a road on which the horses of prayer may travel—yes, and all the better for the biting frost; but blockade the road, and how can we communicate with the Great King? Faith links me with divinity. Faith clothes me with the power of God. Faith engages on my side the omnipotence of Jehovah. Faith ensures every attribute of God in my defense. It helps me to defy the hosts of hell. It makes me march triumphant over the necks of my enemies. But without faith how can I receive anything of the Lord? Let not him that wavers—who is like a wave of the Sea—expect that he will receive anything of God! O, then, Christian, watch carefully your faith; for with it you can win all things, however poor you are, but without it you can obtain nothing. “All things are possible to him who believes.”

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

“Just as the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you.” — John 15:9

Just as the Father loves the Son, Jesus loves his people in the same way. What is that divine way? He loved him without beginning, and accordingly Jesus loves the members of His body. “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” You can trace the beginning of human affection; you can easily find the beginning of your love to Christ, but his love to us is a stream whose source is hidden in eternity. God the Father loves Jesus without any change. Christian, take this for your comfort, that there is no change in Jesus Christ’s love to those who rest in him. Yesterday you were on Tabor’s mountaintop, and you said, “He loves me:” today you are in the valley of humiliation, but he loves you still the same. On the hill Mizar, and among the mountains of the Hermons, you heard his voice, which spoke so sweetly with the birdsong of love; and now on the sea, or even in the sea, when all his waves and breakers go over you, his heart is faithful to his ancient choice. The Father loves the Son without any end, and accordingly does the Son love his people. Believer, you need not fear the loosing of the silver cord, for his love for you will never cease. Rest confident that even down to the grave Christ will go with you, and that up again from it he will be your guide to the celestial hills. Moreover, the Father loves the Son without any measure, and the same immeasurable love the Son bestows upon his chosen ones. The whole heart of Christ is dedicated to his people. He “loved us and gave himself for us.” His is a love which passes knowledge. Ah! We have indeed an unchangable Savior, a precious Savior, one who loves without measure, without change, without beginning, and without end, even as the Father loves him! There is much food here for those who know how to digest it. May the Holy Spirit lead us into its core and richness!

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

“So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith.” — Galatians 3:26

The fatherhood of God is common to all his children. Ah, “Little-faith”, you have often said, “Oh that I had the courage of “Great-heart,” that I could wield his sword and be as valiant as he! But, alas, I stumble upon every twig, and a shadow makes me afraid.” Take heart, “Little-faith.” “Great-heart” is God’s child, and you are God’s child too; and “Great-heart” is not one bit more God’s child than you are. Peter and Paul, the highly-favored apostles, were of the family of the Most High; and so are you also; the weak Christian is as much a child of God as the strong one.

“This cov’nant stands secure,

Though earth’s old pillars bow;

The strong, the feeble, and the weak,

Are one in Jesus now.”

All the names are in the same family register. One may have more grace than another, but God our heavenly Father has the same tender heart towards all. One may do more mighty works, and may bring more glory to his Father, but he whose name is the least in the kingdom of heaven is as much the child of God as he who stands among the King’s mighty men. Let this cheer and comfort us, when we draw near to God and say, “Our Father.”

Yet, while we are comforted by knowing this, let us not rest contented with weak faith, but ask, like the Apostles, to have it increased. However feeble our faith may be, if it is real faith in Christ, we shall reach heaven at last, but we shall not honor our Master much on our pilgrimage, neither shall we abound in joy and peace. If then you would live to Christ’s glory, and be happy in his service, seek to be filled with the spirit of adoption more and more completely, until perfect love shall cast out fear.

Evening, March 17, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called sons of God.” — Matthew 5:9

This is the seventh of the beatitudes, and seven was the number of perfection among the Hebrews. It may be that the Savior placed the peacemaker the seventh upon the list because he most nearly approaches the perfect man in Christ Jesus. He who would have perfect blessedness, so far as it can be enjoyed on earth, must attain to this seventh benediction, and become a peacemaker. There is a significance also in the position of the text. The verse which precedes it speaks of the blessedness of “the pure in heart: for they shall see God.” It is good to understand that we are to be “first pure, then peaceable.” Our peaceableness is never to result in a compact with sin, or toleration of evil. We must set our faces like flint against everything which is contrary to God and his holiness: with purity being in our souls a settled matter, we can go on to peaceableness. Indeed, the verse that follows also seems to have been put there on purpose. However peaceable we may be in this world, yet we shall be misrepresented and misunderstood: and no surprise, for even the Prince of Peace, by his very peacefulness, brought fire upon the earth. He himself, though he loved mankind, and did no ill, was “despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Unless, therefore, the peaceable in heart should be surprised when they meet with enemies, it is added in the following verse, “Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Thus, the peacemakers are not only pronounced to be blessed, but they are surrounded all about with blessings. Lord, give us grace to climb to this seventh beatitude! Purify our minds that we may be “first pure, then peaceable,” and fortify our souls, that our peaceableness may not lead us into cowardice and despair when, for your sake, we are persecuted.

Morning, March 17, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Remember the poor.” — Galatians 2:10

Why does God allow so many of his children to be poor? He could make them all rich if he pleased; he could lay bags of gold at their doors; he could send them a large annual income; or he could scatter around their houses abundance of provisions, as once he made the quails lie in heaps round the camp of Israel, and rained bread out of heaven to feed them. There is no necessity that they should be poor, except that he sees it to be best. “The cattle upon a thousand hills are his”—he could supply them; he could make the richest, the greatest, and the mightiest bring all their power and riches to the feet of his children, for the hearts of all men are in his control. But he does not choose to do so; he allows them to endure want, he allows them to endure in poverty and obscurity. Why is this? There are many reasons: one is, to give us, who are favored with enough, an opportunity of showing our love to Jesus. We show our love to Christ when we sing of him and when we pray to him; but if there were no sons with need in the world we should lose the precious privilege of demonstrating our love, by ministering in alms-giving to our poorer brothers; he has ordained that accordingly we should prove that our love stands not in word only, but in deed and in truth. If we truly love Christ, we shall care for those who are loved by him. Those who are dear to him will be dear to us. Let us then look upon it not as a duty but as a privilege to relieve the poor of the Lord’s flock—remembering the words of the Lord Jesus, “to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.” Surely this assurance is important enough, and this motive strong enough to lead us to help others with a willing hand and a loving heart—remembering that all we do for his people is graciously accepted by Christ as done to himself.

Evening, March 16, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Keep back Your servant from presumptuous sins.” — Psalm 19:13

This was the prayer of the “man after God’s own heart.” Did David, holy as he was, need to pray this way? How needed, then, must such a prayer be for us babies in grace! It is as if he said, “Keep me back, or I shall rush headlong over the precipice of sin.” Our evil nature, like an ill-tempered horse, is quick to run away. May the grace of God put the bridle upon it, and hold it back, that it not rush into trouble. What might not the best of us do if it were not for the checks which the Lord sets upon us both in His foreseeing care and in grace! The psalmist’s prayer is directed against the worst form of sin—that which is done with deliberation and willfulness. Even the holiest of us need to be “kept back” from the vilest transgressions. It is a solemn thing to find the apostle Paul warning believers against the most despicable sins. “Therefore consider the members of your earthly body as dead to immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed, which amounts to idolatry.” What! Do believers need warning against such sins as these? Yes, they do. The whitest robes, unless their purity is preserved by divine grace, will be defiled by the blackest spots. Experienced Christian, do not boast in your experience; yes, you will trip if you look away from him who is able to keep you from falling. You, whose love is impassioned, whose faith is constant, whose hopes are bright, do not say, “We shall never sin,” but rather cry out, “Lead us not into temptation.” There is enough kindling in the heart of the best of men to light a fire that shall burn to the lowest hell, unless God chooses to quench the sparks as they fall. Who would have dreamed that righteous Lot could be found drunken, and committing immorality? Hazael said, “But what is your servant, who is but a dog, that he should do this great thing? We are very apt to use the same self-righteous question. May infinite wisdom cure us of the madness of self-confidence.

Morning, March 16, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For I am a stranger with You.” — Psalm 39:12

Yes, O Lord, with you, but not to you. Your grace has successfully removed all my natural alienation from you,  and now, in fellowship with yourself, I walk through this sinful world as a sojourner in a foreign country. You are a stranger in your own world. Man forgets you, dishonors you, sets up new laws and alien customs, and knows you not. When your dear Son came to his own, his own received him not. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. Never was so speckled a bird foreign among the occupants of any land as your beloved Son was among his mother’s brethren. It is no marvel, then, if I — who live the life of Jesus — should be unknown and a stranger here below. Lord, I would not be a citizen where Jesus was an alien. His pierced hand has loosened the cords which once bound my soul to earth, and now I find myself a stranger in the land. My speech seems an outlandish tongue to these Babylonians among whom I dwell, my manners are curious, and my actions are strange. A Tartar transported from the past would be more at home in Cheapside, London, than I could ever be in the hangouts of sinners. But here is the delight of my lot: I share being a stranger with you. You are my fellow-sufferer, my fellow-sojourner. Oh, what joy to wander in such blessed company! My heart burns within me by the way when you speak to me, and though I be a sojourner, I am far more blessed than those who sit on thrones, and far more at home than those who dwell in their paneled houses.

“To me remains nor place, nor time:

My country is in every clime;

I can be calm and free from care

On any shore, since God is there.

While place we seek, or place we shun,

The soul finds happiness in none:

But with a God to guide our way,

‘Tis equal joy to go or stay.”

Evening, March 15, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Every work … he did with all his heart and prospered.” — 2 Chronicles 31:21

This is no unusual occurrence; it is the general rule of the moral universe that those men prosper who do their work with all their hearts, while those are almost certain to fail who go to their labor leaving half-heartedly. God does not give harvests to idle men except harvests of thistles, nor is he pleased to send wealth to those who will not dig in the field to find its hidden treasure. It is universally understood that if a man would prosper, he must be diligent in business. It is the same in religion as it is in other things. If you would prosper in your work for Jesus, let it be work from the heart, and let it be done with all your heart. Put as much force, energy, heartiness, and earnestness into religion as ever you do into business, for it deserves far more. The Holy Spirit helps our weaknesses, but he does not encourage our idleness; he loves active believers. Who are the most useful men in the Christian church? The men who do what they undertake for God with all their hearts. Who are the most successful Sunday School teachers? The most talented?  No; the most passionate; the ones whose hearts are on fire, those are the ones who see their Lord riding forth prosperously in the majesty of his salvation. Wholeheartedness shows itself in perseverance; there may be failure at first, but the serious worker will say, “It is the Lord’s work, and it must be done; my Lord has called me do it, and in his strength I will accomplish it.” Christian, are you “with all your heart” serving your Master? Remember the earnestness of Jesus! Think what heart-work was his! He could say, “The zeal of your house has consumed me.” When he sweat great drops of blood, it was no light burden he had to carry upon those blessed shoulders; and when he poured out his heart, it was no weak effort he was making for the salvation of his people. Was Jesus in earnest, and are we lukewarm?

Morning, March 15, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.” — 2 Timothy 2:1

Christ has grace beyond measure in himself, but he has not retained it for himself. As a reservoir empties itself into the pipes, so has Christ emptied out his grace for his people. “For of His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace.” He seems only to have grace in order to distribute to us. He stands like the fountain, always flowing, but only running in order to supply the empty pitchers and the thirsty lips which draw close to it. Like a tree, he bears sweet fruit, not to hang on boughs, but to be gathered by those who have need. Grace, whether its work is to pardon, to cleanse, to preserve, to strengthen, to enlighten, to enliven, or to restore, is forever available to be received from him freely and without price; nor is there one form of the work of grace which he has not bestowed upon his people. As the blood of the body, though flowing from the heart, belongs equally to every member, so the influences of grace are the inheritance of every believer united to the Lamb; and therefore, there is a sweet communion between Christ and his Church, inasmuch as they both receive the same grace. Christ is the head upon which the oil is first poured; but the same oil runs to the very edges of the garments, so that the lowest believer has an anointing of the same costly oil as that which fell upon the head. This is true communion when the sap of grace flows from the trunk to the branch, and when it is recognized that the trunk itself is sustained by the very nourishment which feeds the branch. As we day by day receive grace from Jesus, and more constantly recognize it as coming from him, we shall behold him in communion with us, and enjoy the contentment of communion with him. Let us make daily use of our riches, and ever return to him as to our own Lord in covenant, taking from him the supply of all we need with as much boldness as men take money from their own wallet.

Evening, March 14, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I will guard my ways.” — Psalm 39:1

Fellow sojourner, do not say in in your heart, “I will randomly go here and there, and I shall not sin;” for you are never so removed from the danger of sinning that you can boast of security. The road is very muddy; it will be hard to pick your path so as not to soil your garments. This is a world covered in pitch; you will need to watch often, if in handling it you are to keep your hands clean. There is a robber at every turn of the road to rob you of your jewels; there is a temptation in every blessing; there is a trap in every joy; and if you ever reach heaven, it will be a miracle of divine grace to be attributed entirely to your Father’s power. Be on your guard. When a man carries a stick of dynamite in his hand, he should take care that he does not go near a candle; and you too must take care that you not enter into temptation. Even your everyday actions are sharp-edged tools; you must mind how you handle them. There is nothing in this world to foster a Christian’s virtue, but everything to destroy it. How anxious you should be, to look up to God, that he may keep you! Your prayer should be, “God, hold me up, and I shall be safe.” Having prayed, you must also watch; guarding every thought, word, and action, with holy jealousy. Do not expose yourselves unnecessarily; but if called to exposure, if you are requested to go where the arrows are flying, never venture forth without your shield; for if once the devil finds you without your armor, he will rejoice that his hour of triumph is come, and will soon make you fall, wounded by his darts. Though you cannot be slain, you may be wounded. “Be sober; be vigilant, the most danger may be in an hour when all seems most secure to you.” Therefore, take heed to your ways, and watch and pray. No man ever fell into error through being too watchful. May the Holy Spirit guide us in all our ways, so they shall always please the Lord.

Morning, March 14, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed that he does not fall.”— Corinthians 10:12

It is a curious fact, that there is such a thing as being proud of grace. A man says, “I have great faith, I shall not fall; some poor soul of little faith may, but I never shall.” “I have passionate love,” says another, “I can stand, there is no danger of my going astray.” He who boasts of grace has little grace to boast of. Some who do this imagine that their past blessings can keep them, knowing not that the stream must flow constantly from the Head of the spring, or else the brook will soon be dry. If a continuous stream of oil is not supplied to the lamp, even though it burns brightly today, it will smoke tomorrow, and begin to smell noxious. Take heed that you not glory in your past blessings, but let all your glorying and confidence be in Christ and his strength, for only so can you be kept from falling. Be much more in prayer. Spend longer time in holy adoration. Read the Scriptures more earnestly and constantly. Watch your lives more carefully. Live nearer to God. Take the best examples for your pattern. Let your conversation be evocative of heaven. Let your hearts be scented with affection for men’s souls. Live in such a way that men may take knowledge of you that you have been with Jesus, and have learned of him; and when that happy day shall come, when he whom you love shall say, “Come up higher,” may it be your happiness to hear him say, “You have fought a good fight, you have finished your course, and hereafter there is laid up for you a crown of righteousness which does not fade away.” On, Christian, with care and caution! On, with holy fear and trembling! On, with faith and confidence in Jesus alone, and let your constant petition be, “Uphold me according to your word.” He is able, and he alone, “To keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy.”

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

“Then he put out his hand and took her, and brought her into the ark to himself.” — Genesis 8:9

Wearied out by her wandering, the dove returns at length to the ark as her only resting place. How heavily she flies—she will drop—she will never reach the ark! But she struggles on. Noah has been looking out for his dove all day long, and is ready to receive her. She has just enough strength to reach the edge of the ark; she can hardly alight upon it, and is ready to drop, when Noah puts forth his hand and pulls her in to him. Mark that: “brought her into the ark to himself.” She did not fly right in herself, but was too fearful, or too weary to do so. She flew as far as she could, and then he put forth his hand and pulled her in to him. This act of mercy was shown to the wandering dove, and she was not chastised for her wandering. Just as she was, she was pulled into the ark. So you as well, seeking sinner, with all your sin, will be received. “Only return”—those are God’s two gracious words—”only return.” What! Nothing else? No, “only return.” She had no olive branch in her mouth this time, nothing at all but just herself and her wandering; but the call is “only return,” and she does return, and Noah pulls her in. Fly, you wanderer; fly you fainting one, dove as you are, though you think yourself to be black as the raven with the mire of sin, fly back, back to the Savior. Every moment you wait just increases your misery; your attempts to preen yourself and make yourself fit for Jesus are all vanity. You, come to him just as you are. “Return, backsliding Israel.” He does not say, “Return, repenting Israel” (there is such an invitation, doubtless), but ” backsliding one,” as a backslider with all your backslidings all about you; Return, return, return! Jesus is waiting for you! He will stretch forth his hand and “pull you in”—in to himself, your heart’s true home.

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

“Why do we sit here until we die?” — 2 Kings 7:3

Dear reader, this book was mainly intended for the edification of believers, but if you are yet unsaved, our heart yearns over you: and we would wish to say a word which may be blessed to you. Open your Bible, and read the story of the lepers, and mark their situation, which was much the same as yours. If you remain where you are you must perish; if you go to Jesus the worst is that you can die. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” is the old proverb, and in your case the venture is no great one. If you sit still in sullen despair, no one can pity you when your ruin comes; but if you die with mercy sought, if such a thing were possible, you would be the object of universal sympathy. None escape who refuse to look to Jesus; but you know that, at any rate, some are saved who believe in him, for certain of your own acquaintances have received mercy: then why not you? The Ninevites said, “Who can tell?” Act upon the same hope, and try the Lord’s mercy. To perish is so awful, that if there was but a straw to catch at, the instinct of self-preservation should lead you to stretch out your hand.

We have consequently been talking to you on your own unbelieving ground, we would now assure you, as from the Lord, that if you seek him he will be found of you. Jesus casts out no one who comes unto him. You shall not perish if you trust him; on the contrary, you shall find treasure far richer than the poor lepers gathered in Syria’s deserted camp. May the Holy Spirit embolden you to go at once, and you shall not believe in vain. When you are saved yourself, publish the good news to others. Do not hold your peace; tell the King’s household first, and unite with them in fellowship; let the servant of the city, the minister, be informed of your discovery, and then proclaim the good news in every place. May the Lord save you before the sun goes down this day.

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

“To whom do you belong?” — 1 Samuel 30:13

No neutralities can exist in religion. We are either ranked under the banner of Prince Emmanuel, to serve and fight his battles, or we are vassals of the black prince, Satan. “To whom do you belong?”

Reader, let me assist you in your response. Have you been “born again”? If you have, you belong to Christ, but without the new birth you cannot be his. In whom do you trust? For those who believe in Jesus are the sons of God. Whose work are you doing? You are sure to serve your master, for he whom you serve is thereby recognized to be your lord. What company do you keep? If you belong to Jesus, you will associate with those who wear the uniform of the cross. “Birds of a feather flock together.” What is your conversation? Is it heavenly or is it earthly? What have you learned of your Master?  For servants learn much from their masters to whom they are apprenticed. If you have served your time with Jesus, it will be said of you, as it was of Peter and John, “They took note concerning them that they had been with Jesus.”

We press the question, “To whom do you belong?” Answer honestly before you give yourself to sleep. If you are not Christ’s you are serving a hard master—run away from your cruel overlord! Enter into the service of the Lord of Love, and you shall enjoy a life of blessedness. If you are Christ’s let me advise you to do four things.

You belong to Jesus–obey him; let his word be your law; let his wish be your will.

You belong to the Beloved, then love him; let your heart embrace him; let your whole soul be filled with him.

You belong to the Son of God, then trust him; rest nowhere but on him.

You belong to the King of kings, then be decidedly for him. Therefore, without your being branded upon the forehead, all will know to whom you belong.